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“I — I didn’t really know yon loved me as mnch as 

all that ! ’ ’ Page 220 





DERBY’S YEAR 


BY 

MARGUERITE CURTIS 
U 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
1922 


COPYEIGHT, 1922, 

By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. Ino. 



FEINTED IN U, S. A, 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

‘‘I — I didn’t really know you loved me as much 

as all that!” Frontispiece 

TAOING PACK 

don’t believe he’s quite as disappointed in us 
as you might suppose” 40 

“I should think you’d be the happiest girl in the 
world!” . . ..128 

She sent her a loving farewell over the wire . . 254 













DEBBY’S YEAR 


CHAPTER I 

Down below in the parlour there was quite a 
lot of noise. Some one was talking; a strange 
voice, Debby supposed it was Uncle Mort; yet 
she could not stir from the upper hallway. It 
seemed as if she were rooted to her position be- 
fore the long cheval glass, and the more she 
looked at herself the more disgusted she be- 
came. 

‘^Oh, dear!^^ she sighed mournfully, ‘Ho 
think he has to be so disappointed! Why on 
earth didnT one of us take after MumsyU’ 

She giggled as she thought about it, it was too 
absurd. Seven of them, seven Jannison chil- 
dren, and not one of them with the pretty ways 
or pretty face of their mother. Why should 
they all have taken after their father, fine man 
though he was. It didnT seem fair; Debby 


2 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


giggled again as she thought about it. ‘‘I 
guess Mumsy felt pretty sore sometimes/’ she 
said to herself, ‘‘having homely babies every 
time. Of 'Course she hears up under it pretty 
well, and no one would ever know from her that 
she wasn’t just as proud as can be of the whole 
bunch, but brains aren’t everything in this 
world, after all. Oh, it is awful to be a Fluffy- 
Ruffles inside and look like — like — ” she hesi- 
tated for a simile. What she meant was to look 
like a caricature of a school-marm, but she 
finished instead with the names of two of her 
sisters; “to look like Helen and Peggy,” she 
mourned. 

But — did she? She bent nearer the mirror. 
Of course her nose was straight — just like 
theirs, and her hair was smooth. But when 
she took otf her glasses — how she hated the 
things with their ugly horn rims ! — ^her eyes had 
a twinkle in them, and they really were as blue 
as a summer lake, and her mouth had a 
crinkly look — she didn’t know how else to say 
it, and the corners turned up. Truly, she be- 
lieved she was the only one of the Seven 
who had turned-up corners! It wasn’t much, 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


3 


but it was something to be thankful for. With 
a long sigh she left the mirror and went down- 
stairs. 

It was absolutely impossible for Debby to be 
sober and act as she should. With the best in- 
tentions in the world she had started down the 
stairs at a dignified pace, but before she knew 
it she was running, and at the bottom of the 
stairs she gave a jump and landed on the rug 
that always slid so, and somehow she could 
not save herself, and so she arrived, her face 
crimson with mortification and her eyes spar- 
kling with anger at herself, right in the midst 
of the solemn family party assembled in the 
parlour to meet Uncle Mort. 

Every one was there but father, and of 
course he had to be at the laboratory with Debi- 
son, he ’d have been there if the house was burn- 

V 

ing up. It was a tremendous honour to be con- 
fidential man to Debison, the greatest inventor 
of the age ; it meant that Daddy was a wonder 
himself, that probably if Debison had died, or 
something, he’d go on inventing things himself 
instead. He had that kind of mind, clever as 
could be. Of course that didn’t make much 


4 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


money, but there was all kinds of honour in it, 
and the family was just as proud of him as 
could he. Only, it made it hard sometimes for 
Mumsy, with all the family to manage. 

Dehby ran into the room; not that she wanted 
to, but she couldn^t stop herself after the 
impetus of her slip on the rug. She ran, and 
hurled herself right at the third button of a 
conservative grey waistcoat, her little hands 
outstretched in self-defence. And before she 
knew it, they were held in a strong, firm grip, a 
voice that was strange and yet familiar said: 

Steady, now; who^s this?’’ and she found her- 
self smiling into the eyes of Uncle Mortimer. 

He had nice eyes, the kind an artist ought to 
have. And he wore nice clothes, with the most 
wonderful ^creases down the front of his 
trousers. There was something about him that 
was a little like Mumsy, too, and his voice was 
like hers, a laughing voice. 

‘‘I’m Debby!” she said, and heard him say 
above her head to her mother: “Goodness, 
Helen, couldn’t you have had one a bit like you? 
I’m overwhelmed at all this — this — ” he 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


5 


waved his hands feebly, trying to find a word 
to express himself, and then said cleverness,^’ 
very loud, as if he was ashamed over something. 

None of the others smiled, even, but Mumsy 
laughed out loud. 

‘‘They’re good children, Mort,” she said af- 
fectionately,” you mustn’t let your artist’s eye 
run away with you. Who knows, one of my 
ugly ducklings may astonish the world by her 
beauty one of these days.” 

Her eyes roamed over the room, looking 
critically at Helen and Peggy, the two eldest 
girls. They sat on the sofa, their hands folded 
on their brown tweed skirts, their eyes looking 
gravely towards their mother’s brother. They 
hadn’t a curl or a frill between them, and they 
wore spectacles with horn rims, just as Debby 
did. 

Across from them Harold-William fidgetted 
and stared, and Jane stood by the window with 
her eyes round with astonishment. They were 
all taking in the uncle of whom they had heard 
so much. Every one wore brown; long ago 
Mumsy had found a bolt of brown cloth in the 


6 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


attic that had belonged to G-randfather Janni- 
son, and it seemed as if it never would wear out. 
Brown is a very enduring colour, Debby re- 
flected with a sigh. 

Uncle Mort heard the sigh and turned 
towards her with interest. 

^^What is it, Debby U’ he asked, ‘‘what makes 
you sad? And is Debby your real name, or is it 
Deborah?’’ 

‘ ‘ Goodness, no ” ; said Debby briskly. ‘ ‘ I am 
called after Mr. Debison, you know. It just 
happened that when I was born he was taking a 
vacation, so he could think about ordinary 
things, not inventions. But he’s awfully ab- 
sent-minded, you know, and he thought I was a 
boy, so he gave Daddy a hundred dollars to 
bank for Debison Jannison, and Daddy didn’t 
even ask Mumsy, but went right otf to the 
place and registered me with that awful name ! 
They call me Debby to make it a little better, 
but it’s terrible, I think, whichever way you 
look at it. Harold-William would have been 
proud to have his name, because of course he’s 
a boy and can stand up under the strain, and 
he ’s going to be an inventor himself, anyhow ! ’ ’ 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


7 


^ ‘I ’m not ! ^ ’ said Harold-William hotly, ^ ‘I 
going to be a chemist, an analytical chemist. 
Miss Know-All/’ 

^‘Children, children!” said Mrs. Janni- 
son reprovingly, and there was a sudden 
abashed silence, which Uncle Mort broke hur- 
riedly. 

‘‘For Heaven’s sake, Helen, let them be 
natural. I like to hear kids squabble. ’ ’ 

“Then you ought to live in our house”; said 
Debby suddenly, her eyes filled with surprise, 
“we aren’t any worse than other families, you 
know, but of course there are things — ” 

“Debby!” Peggy said. 

“Well, Peggy, there are, and you know it. 
One’s my hundred dollars; none of the rest 
have as much money as that. Uncle Mort, and 
they don’t think I ought to mind about being 
called Debison. But money doesn’t make up 
for everything,” she said mournfully. 

“When I think what I could do with that 
hundred dollars — ” began Peggy energeti- 
cally,” it makes me boil to think that I had to 
be named Margaret ! If only Mr. Debison had 
thought about naming me after him, how happy 


8 DEBBY^S YEAR 

I should have been. I could have started at 
Vassar — ’’ 

Cheeky!’^ muttered Helen, staring at her 
angrily, ‘^why should you have a hundred 
more than any of the rest? If you ask me, I 
think Paignton ought to have it, he ’s the eldest, 
or Cecilia, she ’s the silliest ! ^ ’ 

She almost snorted, glaring at her sister, and 
instantly the room was a babel of voices. The 
Jannisons might be the brainiest family in the 
town, but they were not above quarrelling 
amongst themselves. Quite without meaning 
to do it, Debby had precipitated a storm, and in 
the midst of it she looked round ruefully for 
Cecilia. 

When she entered the room, she had thought 
that the whole family was present, but it 
dawned upon her now that Paignton — her eldest 
brother — and Cecilia were both absent. And 
while of course it was natural for Paignton to 
be gone — he went to the city every day to busi- 
ness — it was quite another thing to miss Cecilia. 
Debby started up to ask her mother where 
‘ ^ Silly ^ ’ was. 

But suddenly she was aware that Uncle Mort 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


9 


was speaking to her again, bending down and 
dropping his voice so that he seemed to be 
taking her into his confidence in the most de- 
lightful way. ‘‘Say,^^ he said, ‘^who is 
Cecilia!’^ And then, hardly waiting for her 
answer, ‘‘we seem to have gotten them started, 
between us, don^t weV^ 

“Isn^t it awful r’ said Debby, and then 
eagerly, “ Cecilia ^s my sister; you have to have 
a special one, you know, in a family like ours, 
some one to take your side and think the way 
you do. Cecilia — she’s the very nicest one of 
the family, really, though we do all call her 
Silly. It doesn’t mean anything, you know; 
every one can’t be quite as clever as all the 
rest.” 

A smile flitted across the handsome face of 
Mortimer Poole. “The rest?” he asked 
quizzically, “don’t you put yourself in with 
them when it comes to brains?” 

“Why no”; said Debby honestly, “not ex- 
actly. ’ ’ She settled herself to a confidential ex- 
planation. Somehow she felt very much at 
home with this uncle who had been a stranger 
until a few minutes ago. “You see, it’s this 


10 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


way: I know I look like the others — she 
could hardly help a sigh at that — ^^and you’re 
frightfully disappointed in all of us because we 
aren’t a bit like Mumsy’s family, but I’m not 
like them inside. Inside — I ’m a regular Fluffy- 
Euffles ; I love clothes, and candy, and perfume 
and picture shows and dancing. I want to live 
in a rainbow and see lovely things every day all 
my life. But of course I’m awfully hampered, 
following after the other girls I almost have to 
pretend to want to be clever, anyhow. They 
call us the ‘‘clever Jannisons,” you know. If 
I miss out in a recitation, the teacher is sure 
to say, ‘oh, Debby, Jane or Peggy would never 
have done that ! ’ And at school the other girls 
don’t talk to me much about their new dresses, 
they think I don’t care. I — ” she flushed a 
little — “I can’t very well let them know I do, 
because we are always dressed just alike, in 
brown. . . . You see, it’s cheaper.” 

She ended gravely, as if the statement of the 
family necessity for economy was something he 
would perfectly comprehend, and Mortimer 
Poole nodded his head understandingly. 

Of course the child was plain, but there was 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


11 


something altogether out of the ordinary and 
charming about her that he did not see in the 
others. As for his sister Helen, she^d been a 
brick never to let him know all these years what 
she had been going through. Any one could 
read the history in her faded, pretty face and 
the indomitable smile she wore. And these chil- 
dren — these awful, clever children of hers — 
how had she managed to bring them up? He 
supposed they adored her, as their father did. 
And probably they were all just as irrespon- 
sible and absent-minded as he was. What a 
life! Well, he was glad he had enough money 
to make it at least a little easier for them all. 
But he was so disappointed he could almost 
have cried, like a small boy at a party who does 
not get the cake he has set his heart upon. He 
had been so lonely, and now that he was back in 
America after all these years of Europe, he 
had intended settling down near these young 
nephews and nieces, and playing fairy god- 
father. . . . They^d have had a good time if 
they^d been ordinary youngsters! He smiled 
a bit ruefully as he felt in his pocket for the 
bits of pasteboard he had obtained with such in- 


12 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


finite trouble that morning. Which of these 
Jannison children would care for the circus? 
Why, they ^d be offended at being asked to go ! 
And then he pictured himself taking them, 
these learned young things with the brown 
clothes and the horn rimmed spectacles. Why, 
if any one saw him he’d never hear the last of 
it. Frivolous Mortimer Poole — for although 
he was a great artist he had a frivolous side 
and he knew it — ^with a lot of grave young rela- 
tives who would know the scientific name of 
every animal in the ring. The thing was too 
absurd. 

Suddenly, he laughed out. Helen, his sister 
Helen, who still seemed the little sister to him, 
despite her terrible offspring — turned towards 
him, inquiringly. The riot was dying down, for 
the moment at least the matter of the hundred 
dollars was settled; five pairs of eyes fixed 
themselves upon him in surprise. He felt him- 
self get hot, and suddenly, a little hand was 
slipped into his and Hebby was nodding at him 
reassuringly. 

know how you feel, as if you’d crack in- 
side if you didn’t! Don’t mind them, Mumsy 


DEBBY’S YEAE 13 

knows how it feels, she does it too.’’ And 
she gave his b^g hand a gentle squeeze. 

‘‘Debby, how old are you?’^ said Mortimer 
Poole suddenly. 

‘‘Thirteen tomorrow,” she said, “Ceciha is 
only twelve, but she is just as tall. — ” 

Suddenly, Mortimer Poole stood up, shaking 
himself free of all the thoughts that had been 
buzzing in his head ever since he had entered 
the house half an hour before. An idea had 
come to him, he was as eager to try it out as 
could be. He turned towards his sister, hold- 
ing up a warning hand to prevent her from 
interrupting him. 

“Listen, all you kids,” he said, “I have some- 
thing to say. Tomorrow you are all coming to 
the circus with me, every one of you, and — 
since that is Hebby’s birthday — I will give the 
whole six of you a hundred dollars each, as 
her present. She doesn’t need it herself, she 
already has hers.” 

He could not help it, he looked straight at 
Hebby, looked so searchingly that she flushed a 
little, wondering why he regarded her like that. 
It did not enter her head that he was expecting 


14 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


her to show her disappointment, that he did not 
believe that any little girl could be really happy 
with a birthday present that took in others and 
left her out. Her eyes shone as she looked back 
at him, her cheeks flushed, her smooth hair 
rumpled. 

‘^Oh, Uncle Mort,’’ she cried, “you are the 
loveliest person in the world. How did you 
ever happen to think of if? I never had such 
a gorgeous present before in all my life! Oh, 
Silly, Silly, we’re going to the circus — ” and 
she rushed from the room, forgetting once 
again the slippery rug in the hall and coming 
down on the floor head first, so that she broke 
her glasses. 

As he rushed to her rescue, reaching her as 
she rose, laughing and ashamed, from the igno- 
minious position, Mortimer Poole had a shock. 

“Why, the child’s beautiful!'' he said aloud. 
And with a happy grin Debby presented Ce- 
cilia, who came reluctantly from behind a pil- 
lar in the hall where she had been hiding. 

“Uncle Mort, this is my dear Silly!” 


CHAPTER II 


Somehow, Hebby had been separated from the 
others and was coming back from the circus 
hanging on the arm of Uncle Mort. 

It had been the most wonderful evening. For 
a minute, as she thought about it, she stopped 
talking and stared ahead at the lights on Broad- 
way. They dazzled her; she had never seen 
them before at night. Living in New Jersey 
had its disadvantages, you never could get to 
see things in the city. Besides, it cost too 
much ! There was the ferry, and the street car 
both ends, it couldnT be done under thirty cents 
with the utmost economy. And of course 
Mumsy wouldn’t let them go alone, and al- 
though the other girls’ mothers had offered to 
take her and Silly on several different oc- 
casions, Hebby had learnt to refuse the 
offer politely and say nothing about it at home. 
Mumsy simply hadn’t the money to spare for 
them, and Hebby hated to see her grieved look 
as she explained this. 


15 


16 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


^‘Debby dear/’ she had said, sitting down 
in her worn old rocker and taking the small 
brown hand in hers, ‘4t hurts me to have to 
refuse such a simple little pleasure, but I sim- 
ply cannot do it, honey. You know, I could not 
let Mrs. Thatcher pay for you and Silly, and 
circus tickets are so expensive, and then there ’s 
the journey — this is the month your father’s 
insurance falls due, you know. We must scrape 
every cent for that. But I feel as if I were 
defrauding you, my own little girl, keeping you 
from a simple pleasure like that. When I was 
your age I always went to the circus with Morti- 
mer and Papa — ” she had broken otf, sighing. 

For a moment Debby had felt a little pang, 
but almost instantly she had thrown herself, 
a worshipful heap, on her mother’s lap. 

‘‘Listen, Mumsy,” she had said, “don’t you 
think it’s lots more fun to have a large family 
like ours, than to go to circuses with just a 
brother? Brothers are awfully snippy, any- 
how, to girls!” 

“Mine wasn’t!” Mrs. Jannison had said, but 
she had laughed and hugged Deb^by in the dear 
way that was hers alone, and that had been 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


17 


the only time that the subject had ever come 
np. But just to think that Uncle Mort had 
struck the very thing that she and Silly had 
been longing to do for years ! Hardly knowing 
what she was doing — she was so busy thinking 
about it — Debby squeezed the arm she held. 

Mortimer Poole looked down from his height 
and smiled. It was a crinkly kind of smile, the 
sort that few people have. Seeing it, Debby 
squeezed the arm again, harder, and gave a 
little skip as she began to talk once more, her 
voice a trifle lyeathless. 

Uncle Mort, how did you know we wanted to 
go to the circus so tremendously?^^ 

^Hfll tell you the truth, Debby, Mortimer ^s 
eyes twinkled; didn^t; but I wanted to go 
myself 

The soft sparkling eyes met his inquiringly. 
This was something that Debby could hardly 
understand. All the grown persons she had 
known had made a point of saying that they 
were going to the circus to please the children ; 
apparently they never wished to go themselves. 
But why any one — even if they were eighty 
years old — should not long to see all the gor- 


18 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


geous things the circus had to show, Dehby 
could not imagine. She left the question to be 
settled later, and swung into a curious imitation 
of her uncle ’s long stride. 

‘^Well, what did you like bestT’ said he. 

There had been a performing elephant that 
Dehby had adored. She couldn’t exactly ex- 
plain why. ^^He was so clumsy and so dear/^ 
she said, and discussed the antics of the clown 
with animation. It amazed her to learn that 
clowns could be very famous. In Paris, Uncle 
Mort told her, he had met Coquin, then an old 
man. In the artists’ colony they had almost 
paid him homage. At all the parties he had 
been treated like a king, and he always did 
something — a new trick or two or some of the 
famous old ones — to make the hours a success. 

‘‘He was really a person!’^ Mortimer Poole 
said. 

Debby considered that phrase, and then she 
gave another little skip. She had forgotten all 
about the others, even about Silly, for she 
knew she was all right, since she was walking 
with Mumsy and Jane. To her it seemed as 
if she and Uncle Mort were alone in a kind 


DEBBY^S YEAR 19 

of Christmas-tree world, where everything was 
bright and shining and different. 

^‘That^s what 1 am going to be^^; she said. 

‘‘Whatr^ 

— a person!’^ 

Well, Mortimer Poole told himself, it was 
likely she would be, she ’d be different, anyhow. 

He remembered her delighted laughter at the 
entertainment they had just left, her whole- 
hearted enjoyment of every moment, the quick- 
ness of thought that had made her amusement, 
in all that vast assembly, just a flash more rapid 
than any one’s. But he did not put this into 
words, of course; all he said was, in a tone of 
confidential curiosity: ‘‘How?” 

Hebby hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know,” she 
said with sudden embarassment, “it sounds so 
stupid when I say that. Helen or Peggy would 
have known in a minute, they are awfully de- 
cided about things, you know. But of course I 
can ’t compare myself with them when it comes 
to trains. I haven’t any, really, not the Jan- 
nison kind. What I want to do is to be an ar- 
tist or an actress or something pretty. I want 
to live in a lovely house, the kind you and 


20 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


Mumsy lived in when yon were little — she has 
often told me ahont it — and wear lovely clothes 
and meet persons, I don’t suppose I ever shall, 
though. Mumsy thinks I might be a school 
teacher if I study hard enough. I’d much 
rather h^e a milliner, only she doesn’t like me 
to say that. I can trim hats, you know, I often 
do Silly’s and mine. The others don’t care 
much to have me touch theirs. Mumsy let 
me do her best toque, though, last winter. It 
would have been lovely if I ’d had more velvet. ’ ’ 

That wistful little tone, and all for a yard 
of velvet! Mortimer Poole, man of the world 
though he was, could hardly keep the note of 
sympathy out of his voice. He changed the 
subject hurriedly, because he could not keep 
himself from saying something about school 
teachers and milliners in an indignant voice, 
if he didn’t. 

^‘Debhy, we’re going back there now, you 
know, back to the old house where Helen and 
I used to live. Your birthday supper is all 
ready for you. Will you like that ? ’ ’ 

He had asked her not to wear her glasses, 
that evening when they were starting out, and 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


21 


she had answered him frankly that she 
couldn^t, anyhow, because she had broken them 
and they were not mended. So her eyes were 
not hidden from him as she replied demurely 
enough that it would be lovely to see the old 
home, and he caught the gleam of sheer joy 
that gave depth and sparkle to their blueness. 
Somehow it made him very happy, a happi- 
ness out of all proportion to the thing he was 
doing. What was it, after all, but giving pleas- 
ure to a child ? He could have done it all these 
years if he had ever thought about it. A box 
from Paris, from Vienna, from Florence or 
Rome or Madrid, what a gift like that would 
have meant to little Debby! Well, he sighed 
to himself, he had been too absorbed in him- 
self and his work to even think of it. He had 
not even offered the old home when he had 
bought it back from the owners who had taken 
it over intact, furniture, servants and every- 
thing — ^with the same old butler and the same 
housekeeper who had watched over his own 
childhood — to his sister and her children. That 
would have been little enough to do, surely, and 
how much better it would have been than the 


22 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


little shingled house in New Jersey, right at 
the shabby end of the town on the edge of the 
woods. That house on West Seventy-Second 
Street, close to the Drive and with the view 
of the Hudson, would at least have placed them 
amongst their social equals. As it was — he re- 
called with a feeling of disdain the children he 
had seen playing near the Jannison house. 
Why, they were miles beneath Debby. 

He thought nothing of the others. They 
might be nice children, he believed they were. 
Paignton, for instance, had seemed a clean-cut, 
charming lad, in the few moments’ conversa- 
tion they had had tonight, and he had no doubt 
that they were all as clever as their father. But 
they simply did not appeal to him, that was all. 
If he had been a father himself, he reflected, 
he would have been tremendously disappointed 
if his family had turned out like that. But 
then, one Debby would make up for six of the 
other kind. 

Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. It was 
so big that it took his breath away for a minute, 
and he looked, like little Debby by his side, 
away up at the white lights of the most bril- 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


23 


liantly lighted street in the world, as he thought 
it out. He hardly heard the chatter of the 
merry voice at his side, knew nothing of the 
sounds going on all around him. He was filled 
with an intense longing for companionship, for 
the delights of a child — rapidly growing into a 
lovely girl — ^beside him all the time. After all, 
why not? Would there be anything so out of 
the way in it, after all? He was rich and a 
bachelor, he had social position and fame. 
Debby was his sister ^s child, and already he 
loved her. With six others, how could Helen 
miss this one? He made up liis mind suddenly 
that he was going to get what he wanted, he 
was going to adopt Debby, make her his daugh- 
ter. After all, though he was a man in the 
prime of life only, there was no chance that 
he would ever marry. A shade came over his 
handsome face as he thought this, and a weary 
expression to his eyes. Debby, looking up at 
him, touched his hand with a timidly caressing 
gesture. 

Uncle Mort, you look as if you wanted a 
little bit of petting 

He stopped, laughing, and hailed a taxi, then 


24 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


motioned to another that was also passing. 
‘‘You^re right, Debby, I do. Perhaps you can 
give it to me.’’ 

He bundled her into the first taxi, and caught 
hold of Cecilia’s hand as she came up with her 
mother and Jane. ‘‘You get in here. Silly, 
with Debby, and get the other kids. You will 
fill these two cabs, I guess.” He admired the 
way in which Paignton took hold of the situa- 
tion and helped the brothers and sisters into 
the vehicles. With a motion of his cane he at- 
tracted another taxicab and helped his sister 
into it with formal politeness. 

“I want to talk to you, Helen,” he explained, 
giving the address to the drivers and watching 
the cabs slide off from the curb.” And I am 
sure you’re tired too, aren’t you? The chil- 
dren had seen quite enough of Broadway at 
night, anyhow.” 

“Yes,” she said, leaning her little head back 
against the comer of the cab and looking ab- 
surdly young and happy, “I suppose they had, 
Mort dear, but you can’t imagine what a treat 
this is; they had none of them ever been to a 
circus before.” 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


25 


‘^Debby told me,^^ he said shortly, and lapsed 
into silence. Then with an effort he roused 
himself, taking his sister’s hand. Helen, you 
have so many, can’t you give a lonely man one 
of your girls? I want to adopt Debby.” 

‘^Defcjby?” she caught at her heart. But her 
voice was quite calm and collected as she went 
on talking. Debby, she explained, was just 
at the age when she really needed her mother. 
One of the others — the bigger girls — 

But Mortimer Poole shook his handsome head 
obstinately. It was Debby he wanted, not any 
one else. Helen and Peggy were charming, of 
course — he did not see his sister wince at the 
cynical tone — but they were not what he wanted. 
Debby was more like their mother at her age. 

And suddenly, he stopped explaining. He 
just sat there, miserably, unable to say a word, 
looking at Helen Jannison with the eyes that 
she had never been able to resist in her brother 
when they both were children. She thought of 
the girl who had treated him so badly that he 
had never felt that he could marry any one else, 
and her mouth softened. Poor old Mortimer, 
he was lonely. But how could she give little 


26 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


Debby up to himi Would it be for the child 
good? 

‘^You don’t care for my other children, 
Mort f ’ ’ she asked him, with almost the wistful- 
ness of Debby herself. ‘^They aren’t just the 
sort of children I thought I should have, my- 
self, but they have hearts of gold, and some 
day you are going to be very proud of being re- 
lated to them.” The little head took a proud 
toss upward. Then she questioned, leaning to- 
wards him with her eyes very earnest, ‘ ‘ Debby 
thought you admired Cecilia?” 

She’s a nice little girl,” he said indiffer- 
ently, ‘‘but of course — oh,” he interrupted him- 
self to ask, “don’t you know that Debby is dif- 
ferent, yourself? Why, she has beauty and 
charm — ” 

“Yes, she’s like you, a little;” Mrs. Janni- 
son almost answered, but she caught the words 
back in time. Her voice was level as she said : 
‘ ‘ Debby heard you say that Silly was beautiful ! 
She was so happy about it.” 

“Oh, that!” for an instant Mortimer Poole 
looked puzzled, then the memory of the instant 
when Cecilia had been introduced to him came 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


27 


to his mind, and he laughed. would he 
like Debby to take the credit and pin it onto 
some one else, I suppose,^’ he said, said it 
about her, to myself. I had no idea she heard 
me.^^ 

She’s been planning to dress Silly up ever 
since, ’ ’ said Helen J annison laughing, but there 
was a break in her voice. ‘ ^ She thought, Mort, 
that you were disappointed in all of us, and 
she wanted to surprise you. Her father was at 
the laboratory all night, and she slept with me 
and woke me up before it was light this morning 
to tell me about it. She has one dress she likes 
— it’s little enough, poor child — and she was go- 
ing to give it to Silly. I don’t think she had 
any idea of being self-sacrificing or anything, 
she wasn’t a bit self-conscious about it. But 
she did want you to admire Silly, for the honor 
of the family.” 

The lights shone in at the windows, suddenly, 
and glinted on something bright and sparkling 
that fell from Helen Jannison’s eyes. Then, 
with that magic that had always been a part 
of her, she turned to her brother, smiling. 

^^Well, if she will come you can have her, 


28 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


Mort, for a year, anyway. Then she shall 
choose for herself, she’ll be old enough then 
to he able to make distinctions. Though I 
warn you, that is not Debhy’s strong point. 
She simply can’t make any difference between 
the poorest child and the one whose parents are 
socially most important. It ’ll be an education, 
Mortimer, for you to have a child like that!” 
She laughed lightly, and lapsed into momentary 
silence, her thoughts switching hack to her 
brother’s life. Of course Mortimer couldn’t be 
democratic in the truly American sense — he 
hadn’t had the training. When their father had 
died and everything had been in such a hopeless 
muddle, Mort had been in Paris for a year, 
studying in Julian’s atelier. With the small 
amount of money saved from the wreck he had 
managed to go on until his first success, the 
picture that had been the attraction of the 
Salon. Then, falling in with the wealthy men 
of the capital — attracted alike by Mortimer’s 
talent and his charm! — he had been given one 
tip after another on the market, and had made 
money steadily, his income climbing with his 
fame in a ratio altogether out of the usual 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


29 


course for an artist. And — with his money — 
the exclusiveness that was a part of himself, 
and a greater part of his European environ- 
ment, had gone on increasing until he had with- 
drawn himself completely from the sort of 
democracy that Debby exemplified. 

Mrs. Jannison gave another laugh, a cross 
between a smile and a sigh, and taking out her 
handkerchief, wiped away the tears from eyes 
that were bright and shining as a girls. 

can’t help crying for a minute,” she said, 
resolutely putting her handkerchief away, and 
holding up her head defiantly; ‘‘Debby is ab- 
solutely the only cuddley baby I ever had!” 


CHAPTER III 


They alighted soberly from the taxi into the 
chattering, excited group of Jannisons standing 
on the steps of the house that had been their 
mother’s home when she was a girl. None of 
the children had ever been there, reflected Mrs. 
Jannison with a pang as she mounted the steps 
at her brother’s side, and she wished, suddenly, 
that the silent, absorbed man who was their 
father had been with her. Had she any right, 
after all, to decide Debby’s future without him? 
Then, with an inward smile she reflected that 
she always had decided everything about the 
children all these years, and braced herself for 
the entrance into the old house. 

The old butler — looking just as he had looked 
twenty years ago, she thought — stood at the 
entrance, his eyes warm with welcome, his old 
hands trembling a little as she held out her hand 
in its worn glove. ‘‘Welcome back to the old 
home, Miss Helen,” he said, and bowed with 

30 


DEBBY^S YEAR 31 

the dignity that seemed to go so well with the 
sombre, beautiful house. 

‘^It is good to see you here, Banning,’^ said 
Mrs. J annison affectionately, and she stretched 
out her hand and drew Debby forward. 

^‘This is my little daughter Debby, she said, 
‘ ‘ and I think you may see more of her than of 
the rest of us, perhaps. Banning, I want you al- 
ways to be very good to her.^’ 

Debby held out her hand as her mother had 
done, and the old man dropped his head low. 
‘‘You are like your mother. Miss Debby, he 
said quietly, and then to that lady: “I will 
do my best. Miss Helen, you know that!’’ 

Somehow, although the words were ordinary, 
they sounded solemn to Debby. She drew back 
and pushed Cecilia forward, thrusting her into 
the circle of light. “Banning, this is my sister 
Cecilia, she is the one who is most like Mumsy. 
Then in an aside to her sister: “Silly, for 
goodness’ sake don’t be such a goose! No 
one’s going to eat you.” 

Thus admonished, Cecilia held her head up 
and looked about her, and the quiet, grave 
glances of the other Jannison children crossed 


32 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


and re-crossed each other as they took in the 
things their mother had so often described to 
them when they were tiny children. Paignton, 
with a laugh, turned to his uncle. 

^‘It feels a bit like coming home, Uncle Mort, 
we Ve heard so much about this place, ’ ’ he said. 

hope you’ll always feel that you can come 
home here, my boy, ’ ’ Mortimer Poole said with 
unwonted feeling, and he eyed the tall young fel- 
low with stirring atfection. ^‘Now, let us go 
into the dining room, where we are to have sup- 
per. It is Debby’s birthday party, you know, 
so we’ve tried to be gay.” 

Laughing, he threw open the door, and at 
once there was an ecstatic exclamation from 
Debby. What the others said or did Mortimer 
Poole did not know, his gaze, and the sad gaze 
of her mother, was focussed on her. But ut- 
terly unconscious of it, the child walked for- 
ward into the circle of pink light that shone 
above the table, her eyes wide with excitement 
and awe. 

Was it a table*? It was not for nothing that 
Mortimer Poole was an artist. Since morning. 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


33 


when the inspiration had come to him, he had 
worked hard at the scheme used by busy car- 
penters to make the table into the semblance 
of a huge, frosted white cake. Pink ribbons 
and white flowers decorated it, streamers of 
pink and white were hung from the central 
bouquet to the chairs that were set around it, 
and thirteen electric lights, shining through the 
colors of the rainbow, were set in tall candles 
that gleamed like crystal. 

Even for a grown-up it would have been beau- 
tiful, and to Debby it was like a dream. She 
ran forward, her eyes shining, and turned to 
give a little ecstatic dance as she realized some- 
thing. 

‘^Oh, Mumsy, it isn’t a table at all — it lifts 
off!” 

^‘Yes, and you lift it, Debby; it is your 
party.” Mortimer Poole spoke, and the 
warmth in his voice surprised even himself. 
He strode across the room to his little niece, 
gestured to the others to take their places be- 
hind the chairs set for them, and ceremoniously 
seated his sister at the place prepared for her. 


34 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


Then, standing beside Debby, he gave a ribbon 
into her hands. ‘‘Tug it, my dear, just one 
sharp puir^; he said. 

Debby tugged. The top of the cake — that 
frosted white and pink cover — slowly rose, and 
from beneath it there came a shower of pink 
petals, a perfumed snow of delicate texture, 
and before each plate there was a big white 
envelope, with two words on it in gold letters — 
each plate, that is, except Debby ’s — “from 
Debby, it said. 

“Well,’’ said the girl in a small voice, “I 
guess you’d better open them, hadn’t you?” 

Solemnly, the Jannison family “opened.” 
From each envelope came a crisp hundred dol- 
lar bill. 

Such a babel arose that no one noticed the 
sound made by Mrs. Jannison when she took out 
the contents of her envelope. It was a check, 
made out to her personally, for ten thousand 
dollars. On the envelope, splashed across it 
in gold letters in her brother’s handwriting, 
that careless, artistic hand that had come to her 
so seldom during all the lean and leaden years 
that he had been away and she had been battling 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


35 


with economy, were the same two words, ‘ ‘ from 
Bebby. ’ ’ A sob rose in Mrs. Jannison ^s throat, 
she looked up, and her eyes met those of her 
brother, shining with pride and happiness. A 
surge of anger rose in her gentle heart, and with 
a touch of distaste she took up the check again 
and deliberately tore it across. The pieces 
floated to the ground and lay there with the 
rose petals, unseen. And her voice, clear as 
a bell, though no one else noticed it, reached 
Mortimer Poole as he watched her, silent and 
amazed. 

‘Mil give her to you, Mort, as long as you 
make her happy, but no money can huy my 
Debby away from me!^’ 

Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned 
to her eldest son, who sat next her, and joined 
gaily in the talk. 

Towards the end of supper, when every one 
was growing a trifle sleepy and no one would 
■admit it, Mortimer Poole arose with a hand out- 
stretched for quiet. For a moment he stood 
there, his eyes on the group of young people, 
his humorous, “crinkly’^ smile, as Debby 
called it to herself, lighting up a face that nature 


36 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


had done nothing to mar. He half turned to- 
wards Debby, and her mother face whitened, 
sensing that he had the idea of breaking to them, 
then and there, the idea he had of making Debby 
his daughter. But whatever he may have been 
about to say in the exhilaration of the hour, 
simple good sense shewed him another way. 
He wanted, he said, to wish Debby, formally, 
the very happiest returns of the day. And 
when the noisy good wishes had been bandied 
about the table by the good-natured crowd of 
brothers and sisters, he suggested that they 
might all like to see his studio before going 
home to bed. 

‘‘Oh, another time, Mort!^^ said his sister; 
“it is so terribly late now. By the time we get 
home it will be morning. ’ ’ 

“Well, you can go to sleep in the car;’’ he 
said with a laugh, and would not b^e denied. 
Drawing Helen to the window he pointed below 
to the street, where a great limousine waited. 
“You are going home in that, my dear, of 
course ; there won’t be any bustle or effort about 
it. Helen — ” his eyes sought hers gravely, 
“I’d give ten years of a pretty full life if I 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


37 


could give you some of the comfort you should 
have had all these years, that I might have 
given to you if I had ever thought about it. 
Sister dear, I want your Debby to have some of 
the things you have missed — things like that.’’ 
His hand gestured down at the waiting automo- 
bile. Don’t grudge her to me, will you!” 

She smiled, although her lips quivered a 
little. 

don’t, Mort,” she said readily enough, 
her hand going out to his shoulder and resting 
there lovingly, ‘4t is merely that I dread losing 
her. You are not a mother, you don’t know 
how it feels to see the first break coming in the 
family. There was a time, you know, when I 
could tuck them all up in bed at night and know 
that they were safe. They were mine, then; 
now I feel like a hen who has hatched out duck- 
lings.” 

Then she changed her tone to one of practical 
inquiry. ‘‘When do you want Debby!” she 
said. 

He had been going to say that he wanted her 
now, that she need never go back to the shabby 
little house in New Jersey, to rush in high 


38 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


handedly with his usual lordly way of getting 
something he wanted done. That had, indeed, 
been his idea in sending the others otf to the 
studio under the care of Banning; he had 
thought that Debby could be given her choice, 
left behind — for he had no doubt of her deci- 
sion, she would hardly be human if she did not 
choose wealth and all that wealth could give, to 
the striving, uncongenial life of her home at 
present — when the others left, this very night. 
But something in Helen’s eyes as she asked him 
the question, made him pause. He dropped his 
hand to hers and stroked it gently. 

^ ^ Send her to me when you are ready to part 
with her,” he said quietly. 

‘‘That will be never”; said Hebby’s mother 
with a laugh. “But I understand you, Morti- 
mer, you are giving me time. Thank you, old 
boy.” She waited a moment, thinking. Then, 
without a tremor she said gently: “I’ll let 
Paignton bring her over tomorrow evening, 
dear, not long before bedtime. You see, I don’t 
think you understand, Mort, but it isn’t going 
to be easy for Debby, either.” 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


39 


It wasnH easy for Debby. 

She went into Mumsy^s bedroom the follow- 
ing morning at about noon. All the family had 
slept disgracefully late, and when Debby ran 
into the dining room she was greeted by a howl 
of derision. A discussion was in process as to 
what each should do with the hundred dollar 
bill Uncle Mort had given them. William- 
Harold — commonly known in the family as Bill 
— had discovered that Debby possessed more 
than either of them after all, as her interest on 
the undisturbed hundred that Mr. Debison had 
given her at her birth, now amounted to a con- 
siderable sum. While none of the children 
really minded this, they were all in the mood to 
pick holes in something, and Debby found her- 
self at once in the midst of a heated discussion. 
At the end, she sought refuge with her mother 
upstairs, but characteristically, she said noth- 
ing whatever of the clamour below. Mrs. Jan- 
nison had never encouraged her children to tell 
tales, even if Debby had any desire to do so. 

^^Mumsy,^’ she said, springing all at once into 
the subject occupying her mother ^s mind, with 
a certain uncanny sense she had possessed 


40 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


from a baby, been thinking about 

Unde Mort. Do you know, I don^t believe 
he’s quite as disappointed in us as you 
might suppose. He — he’s like a sort of fairy 
unde, isn ’t he ? Do you know, if I had wished 
with all my heart for a year, I couldn’t have 
imagined such a perfectly glorious party as 
the one he gave us last night. Just wait until 
I tell the girls.” She sighed because it was 
Saturday, and the recital would have to be post- 
poned. 

Mrs. Jannison sat down suddenly in the chair 
nearest her. It happened to be a low chintz- 
covered rocker, and Debby climbed into her lap, 
snuggling close with a delicious sense of being 
a baby again. 

^^Mumsy,” she said irrelevantly, ‘‘you have 
the softest arms — ” and she broke off her sen- 
tence to stroke them with her hard, browned 
little hands. 

Helen Jannison kept a tight grip on herself. 
She wanted to put her arms around Debby and 
beg her not to leave her, but she had done some 
hard thinking since the night before, and she 
could not reconcile such action with her con- 



“I don’t believe he’s quite as disappointed in us as 
you might suppose” 






DEBBY^S YEAE 


41 


science. This was a big chance for little Debby, 
she wonld have opportunities that her father 
could not give her now, at least, and probably 
might never give. It might be a good thing for 
one of the family to stand where her mother 
had stood, and taste the real delights of luxury. 
She was not really afraid for Debby, the child 
was sound at heart, and what was false and un- 
necessary in the life to which she might be going 
would not stick to her. But she would have 
culture, pleasure and leisure, beautiful clothes, 
beautiful surroundings. There would be noth- 
ing to which she aspired that she might not be 
if she chose, and her brother, she knew, while a 
man of the world in every sense, was a brilliant 
man with a charming collection of friends 
amongst people who were really worth while. 
He was famous, any one connected with him 
came under the aura of his halo, to an extent. 
She could see for Debby a great opportunity in 
a wordly sense, and she would have been less 
than human had she not felt that it must not be 
lightly set aside. 

But it was not this that she thought of most. 
As she sat with her child in her arms, saying 


42 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


notMng but merely hugging her close, it was 
of Mortimer Poole she was thinking, with all 
his money and fame a lonely man. He had no 
children of his own, no one who cared, daily and 
hourly, for his welfare. Debby, though she 
wasn^t clever like most of the others, though 
she loved silly things and thought so much 
about clothes and having a good time, had a 
very tender heart. The way to appeal to her, 
to make her take this chance that was offered, 
would be to tell her that Uncle Mort was lonely. 

So, sitting there together in the big chair, 
mother and daughter had a ‘‘heart to heart as 
Debby called it. A little of Uncle MorUs his- 
tory was laid bare ; he appeared, not only as the 
fairy uncle, but as a saddened human being who 
really needed some one to care for him. 

“That is why he wants you to be with him!’^ 
Helen Jannison ended. 

“Well,’^ said Debby comfortably, feeling 
somehow important at being entrusted with this 
intimate bit of history, “of course Daddy’ll 
hate it, but none of the rest will mind. When 
do we start, Mumsy darling!” 

It took some time to explain. It had never 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


43 


occurred to Debby that she might be separated 
from her family. To be one of the “clever 
J annison ’s ’ ^ with all that implied, was a part of 
her life. Of course she liked Uncle Mort, but 
to be separated from Silly, from Bill and 
Mumsy and everybody, seemed more than she 
could understand, at first. She didnT cry, but 
her eyes shone feverishly as she listened to her 
mother, and when she was silent at last, Debb^y 
clutched her with eager, clinging hands. 

^ ‘ Mumsy, you don T want me to go ? ’ ^ 

“Yes, my darling, I do.’’ But for a minute 
Mrs. Jannison could not go on with her reasons, 
because there was something very like despair 
in Debby ’s eyes. She got up from her 
mother’s lap and stood looking down at her for 
an instant with a dazed expression that no one 
had ever seen before on Debby ’s face. When 
she spoke her voice was dry and precise, more 
like a Jannison voice than Debby ’s had ever 
been, her mother noted with surprise. 

“That settles it then,” she said, with a wan 
little smile. “Of course I know I am not like 
the others, Mumsy, b;ut you never seemed to 
mind. ’ ’ 


44 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


‘^Oh, my baby!^^ said Helen Jannison in 
an agony, and caught Debby to her . ^‘Listen, 
honey, you mustn^t go on thinking like this. I 
never meant to tell you Debby, I ought not to 
tell you now, sweetest, but I have always loved 
you a tiny bit more than any of the others. 
You promise youdl never tell, Debby love, 
never say even to me that I told you this, not 
after this moment, but I — I can’t have you 
think I do not love you as much. It tears me in 
two to give you up, but it is for your own good, 
dear, and I want you to be brave and take the 
big chance that is yours. Why, if you didn’t, 
when you are older you might reproach your- 
self or me for not having insisted on it. ’ ’ 

They laughed and cried together for a minute. 
Helen Jannison ’s tired little head rested on her 
child’s shoulder, for a time it was Debby who 
comforted, Debby who caressed the trembling, 
frail little figure. But there was a shining light 
in her blue eyes, a delicious turned-up look — 
that is how she would have described it — to her 
mouth, as if she wanted to laugh right out and 
did not know how to stop it. To think that she 
was closer to her darling Mumsy than Helen or 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


45 


Paignton! To tMnk that it was Dehly that 
Mumsy loved most ! To think that she wonld 
be missed more than all the other clever Jan- 
nisons — ^it made her so happy that she could 
have danced. Oh, it was the most wonderful 
secret, and no one should ever know about it. 
But wasnT it glorious that something had hap- 
pened to make Mumsy tell her? Why, after 
this nothing would ever be hard again. 

She shook her head, however, when her 
mother pointed out the advantages of living 
with Uncle Mortimer as his adopted daughter. 

Mumsy,’’ she said soberly, ^‘you may be 
right, I can’t tell. But I am not going for that 
reason, I want you to understand that this 
minute. I am going because Uncle Mortimer is 
lonely and needs somebody. I — shan’t tell 
him that, of course, he might not like it, hut all 
the same it’s the truth. I adore lovely things, 
and to go to the movies and everything, but 
that isn’t why I’m going. I want to cheer 
Uncle Mort 

Her voice was very determined. 

Mrs. Jannison looked rather anxious. When 
Debby undertook to do anything she was apt to 


46 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


be rather thorough. Her brother, after all, 
was an artist, and he possessed temperamental 
qualities that might have increased in these 
years away in Europe. He might simply hate 
the cheering process to which Hebby had made 
up her mind to subject him. But it would be 
worse than useless to say anything, she felt. 
And after all, it was for a year only, as an ex- 
periment. If Hebby then chose to stay on with 
Uncle Mortimer — as her mother could only ex- 
pect she would, for luxury is not easily aban- 
doned, once having been possessed, Mrs. Jan- 
nison knew this by her own experience! — she 
would be older, and her mind more ready, per- 
haps, for advice. Also, her brother might have 
strenuously refused to be made light-hearted I 
A sense of humour is a delightful thing, and 
Mrs. Jannison^s now came to her rescue. At 
the thought of Hebby in a cheering mood, and 
her brother Mortimer in a determinedly 
melancholy one, she simply had to laugh. And 
Hebby, although she did not know why, laughed 
too. It was an April shower and sunlight 
clearing up, and after it both felt better. 

‘‘And I shall come home every Sunday,” 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


47 


Debby announced cheerfully, as she helped her 
mother make neat piles of her clothes and pack 
them in the small steamer trunk that had 
always been kept in the attic, ‘‘and perhaps, 
sometimes. Uncle Mort will let me bring ice 
cream for everybody, though that would cost 
a lot ! ’ ’ she added thoughtfully. 

“But my dear child, I don^t think your uncle 
will like that at all!’’ said Mrs. Jannison, 
pausing and looking at Deb^by with concern. 
“Naturally, you will come home sometimes, 
but it won’t be very often, childie, you must 
make up your mind to that. You are going into 
another world, although you will only be in 
New York, and your time will be so much oc- 
cupied. To come home every Sunday would 
be to infringe on Uncle Mort’s time with his 
new little daughter. Without doubt you will 
go to Miss Tence ’s school — went there, and it 
is a wonderful place, I am happy to think that 
one of my girls is to have a chance at the kind 
of education in which it specializes. That 
means that you will be very busy, and on Sun- 
day Uncle Mort will want to take you motoring, 
or have you go to church with him, or even. 


48 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


perhaps; though you are too young to do this 
very much; meet some of his friends. You 
won’t be at liberty to come over here to New 
Jersey to us.” 

‘^It sounds awful!” said Deb^by. ^‘Mumsy, 
honestly I believe I ’d rather stay home always 
and wear nothing but brown until I’m an old 
lady!” 

She did not mean to be funny, but her mother 
laughed. Suddenly, Debby had another idea. 

^ ^ Oh, Mumsy, ’ ’ she gasped, ^ ^ don ’t you think 
you are making a mistake, didn’t he mean he 
wanted Silly? You know, he thinks she is beau- 
tiful ; I heard him say say it ! ” 

Mrs. Jannison’s eyes opened wide; for a 
minute she thought of explaining, but then it 
occurred to her that it would do Debby no harm, 
in the new environment, to continue thinking of 
herself as plain and Cecilia as the beauty. She 
would learn soon enough. So she just said 
soberly : 

^‘No; I am making no mistake, my dear, it is 
you your uncle wants. You are a little older, 
more companionable than Cecilia. Of course 
she is pretty, though.” 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


49 


She dragged the words out slowly, because 
she suddenly realized that little Cecilia was 
very pretty indeed, with her big brown eyes 
that always held a slightly frightened look, 
and the black hair with the goldy sheen on it. 
In her brown dresses, with the hom-rimmed 
glasses, it was not so easy to see this, but when 
she was undressed for the night, wearing an 
old pink nightgown, her little feet stuck into 
Japanese slippers, the cloud of hair falling 
about her innocent little face, why then Silly 
was more than pretty, she was, as Debby said, 
beautiful. A pang went through the mother ^s 
heart as she realized this. Thank heaven she 
had no other relation who might take a fancy 
to another of her girls ! She determined to con- 
tinue her policy of dressing them all in brown 
and giving them the glasses they had needed as 
tiny children to shield their eyes. Brown had 
been a matter of economy, of course, and would 
continue so to be, despite Debby ^s good fortune. 
But — wasn’t it a good thing, too; she certainly 
didn ’t want to part with any more of her clever 
family ! 


CHAPTER IV 


awfully funny, Uncle Mort, in our 
family, we all have a ‘specialM’^ 

Deb, by was sitting curled up in the big arm- 
chair opposite her uncle. They were in the 
library, where Paignton had left them about an 
hour before, and Debby, owing to the fact that 
her mother had wisely decided against good- 
byes to any one, was feeling quite happy and 
delightfully excited. 

^‘What do you mean, a ‘speciaPU’ asked 
Mortimer Poole. 

He wore a loose velvet studio coat of silver 
grey, and his white, clever hand held a cigar in 
a holder so long that Debby compared it to a 
walking stick. He looked just as an artist 
should, Debby reflected, and she gave a little 
chuckle as she answered him. 

‘‘You and Mumsy certainly missed a lot from 
having only each other. There are so many 
things you can do in a big family, it’s like 

50 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


51 


having a party all the time, in a way. Though 
of course we quarrel a lot ! ’ ^ she added frankly. 
‘‘A special is your own particular person, a 
sort of partner in the family. Silly is mine, of 
course, and then Paignton has Helen, and 
Peggy and Harold- William always go to- 
gether. ’ ^ 

‘‘Why on earth do you always say Harold- 
William!^^ 

“We don’t; often it is Bill, but Harold- 
William is his full name, and it’s one of our 
jokes. You see, in the Jannison family there 
has always been a Paignton, a Harold and a 
William, but when Bill was born Mumsy hated 
the names, anyhow, so she called him Harold- 
William both together, meaning to name the 
next boy Mortimer after you and Grandpa. 
But it was a judgment on her, ’ ’ Hebby finished 
solemnly, her blue eyes twinkling, “because all 
the rest were girls. Five girls are an awful 
lot in one family, don’t you think so?” 

Mortimer Poole laughed. 

“But I thought you liked having a big 
family?’^ 

“ Yes ; but there ought to be more boys. Then 


52 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


we could have paired off even. If Silly had 
been a boy — she added thoughtfully, and 
broke into laughter. ‘‘Silly would have made 
such a ridiculous boy — she explained — “she 
is always afraid about something, and so shy,; 
though she is the darlingest thing. ’ ’ 

“She is’^; assented Uncle Mort. He could 
afford to be generous when he spoke of the 
other nieces and nephews. Hadn’t he chosen 
the flower of the family for himself? Or was 
it, as Debby said, that he did not know the 
others? Anyway, Cecilia was a dear little girl, 
Debby should have her to stay sometime. Not 
for a while, though, she must get used to belong- 
ing to him first. 

“Now I come to think of it,” Debby went on, 
smiling a gratified smile at the cordial tone in 
which her uncle had spoken of Silly, Jane 
hasn’t a real special of her own. Sometimes 
she’s with me and Silly, and sometimes with 
Peggy and Bill. She’s frightfully clever, you 
know, even Helen asks her things sometimes.” 

“I don’t believe I talked to her much.” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t!” Debby was off in a peal 
of laughter, “Jane never talks. But I expect 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


53 


she knows all about you, Uncle Mort, and she 
would surprise you if she told you what she had 
found out. Mr. Debison thinks more of her 
than of any of the rest of us. He says hedl 
take her into the laboratory after she ^s been to 
college. 

‘‘Hum, very interesting!^^ The heavy lids 
came down over the hazel eyes. It was plain 
to Debby that something had happened to Uncle 
Mort. Either he was tired, or else he did not 
want to talk about Jane. A sudden blaze of 
loyalty shone in the little girPs soul as she 
realized that this last was probably the case; 
Uncle Mort simply wasn’t interested in Jane, 
incredible though it seemed to her. Hot tears 
sprang to her eyes, and she forced them back in 
a supreme effort of will. She wanted to say 
something about it, to force Uncle Mort to see 
that Janey Jannison was one of the finest, 
cleverest, dearest girls in all the world. But 
what good would that do? He might agree 
just to please her! She had known of grown 
people who did things like that. What she 
wanted was to make Uncle Mort really like the 
rest of the family. To do this she must be 


54 DEBBY^S YEAR 

cautious and careful not to bore him. Artists 
— her mother had said — ^were not just like ordi- 
nary people. They had to be humoured some- 
times. It was hard, but she might as well start 
doing it right now. Blinking back the drops 
that stood in her eyes, she turned upon Morti- 
mer Poole a smile of mischievous sweetness. 

Uncle, IVe been talking ever since I came. 
WonT you tell me, please, what you want me to 
do for youT’ 

‘‘You, do for meU’ In amazement the man 
repeated her words. “Why Debby, I donT 
want you to do anything, my dear, except live 
here and enjoy yourself. I — he hesitated 
for a phrase — “I guess I am tired of being 
alone. If I had married — again that shade 
of the night before dropped over his fine eyes — 
“I might have had a child of your age, perhaps. 
I like to think she might have been a little like 
you. So — I want a little daughter, Debby, who 
will fuss over me sometimes when I’m tired 
and cranky. For the rest — ” he waved his fine 
hand — ‘ ‘ the place is yours, my dear. Mrs. Ban- 
ning will look after you, and Banning will take 
your orders as if they came from me, too. 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


55 


They are good old people, they knew me when I 
was a boy, and yonr Mother too, of course. 
Would you prefer a governess, or to go to 
school?^’ 

‘‘Mumsy said she thought youM send me to 
Miss Tence^s; she went there.’’ 

‘^Exactly, I’d forgotten. Suppose I try for 
a vacancy now. ’ ’ 

He rose and went to the desk in the corner, 
taking up a telephone. 

It was Saturday night, but he thought noth- 
ing of this. Mortimer Poole was used to 
having things arrange themselves as he desired. 
Debby heard him speak quietly into the re- 
ceiver, heard — in the quiet of the beautiful 
room — the voice even of the servant who 
answered his ring when he was connected with 
the famous school. A note of authority rang 
in his voice as he asked for the principal, and 
presently a clear voice with a rather clipped 
accent — a voice Debby was to learn to know well 
— replied. A warmth of interest crept into the 
lady’s tones as she learnt what Mortimer Poole 
wanted, and her inquiry into the age of his 
niece was really interested. 


56 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


‘‘You see, Mr. Poole, we have such a long 
waiting list. Girls are enrolled with us some- 
times in their cradle. It is tradition for the 
daughters of our best families to be educated 
here. But for a niece of such a genius — 

“This is my adopted daughter. Miss Tence, 
although she is my niece by birth. Her mother 
was under your care. Now, can I bring Debby 
to you on Monday T’ 

‘ ‘ Monday — ^impossible ! ’ ^ Silvery laughter 
came to the ears of Debby ’s uncle. “Why, Mr. 
Poole, three months at the earliest, and even 
then I should have to make an exception — 

‘ ‘ Then I ’m afraid we can T do business, ’ ^ said 
Mortimer Poole suavely, with a certain de- 
liberate bluntness added to his courtesy. “I 
have just taken my niece into my home ; she has 
been attending school and I cannot have her 
education interrupted. I will pay anything 
extra in reason, and I give you my word that no 
one shall know that you were kind enough to 
take pity on a poor old bachelor who has had no 
experience in placing children in school. Now, 
if I may start Debby with you on Monday — 
for a consideration, naturally — 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


57 


For a moment he waited, holding the phone. 
Then, with a smile, he murmured a word or two 
and hung up the receiver. The arrangement 
was made. Debby was enrolled as a pupil at 
Miss Tence^s. On Monday morning she would 
start in the most famous of all the girls ’ schools 
in New York. Her eyes met Uncle Mortimer ^s 
in an adoring glance. She jumped up and 
threw her arms around his neck. 

Uncle Mort,^^ she said with fervour, 
think you’re simply wonderful! Oh, to think 
that this isn’t a dream!” 

She danced round the room gaily, a fairy 
figure of joy. Mortimer Poole watched her 
with a suspicious moisture creeping up into his 
eyes. She was both a darling and a wonder. 
How thankful he was that she hadn ’t the brains 
of the rest of her sensible family. He was in 
the mood to hate sense, as he called it! He 
wanted laughter and gaiety and happiness 
about him, not dingy clothes and spectacled 
girls who sat and silently sized him up ! 

The thought of clothes reminded him of some- 
thing. 

With a laugh he rose, caught Debby round 


58 DEBBY^S YEAE 

the waist and stopped her wild pirouetting. 

‘^Come here, you madcap, and see what I 
bought for you. Of course you’ll have to have 
other things — we’ll see Louison about that — 
but I wanted to take you out tomorrow, so this 
morning I went shopping. Come into my den 
and take a look. ’ ’ 

Together they crossed the hall, and with a 
little flourish Uncle Mort threw open the door. 
Debby stopped with a little gasp of pleasure. 

On the chairs, on the tables, everywhere that 
room could be made, great boxes of clothes 
stood opened to the view. From tissue-paper 
wrappings dainty dresses for the house, warm 
things for the street, little befurred coats and 
feathered hats and velvet frocks peeped forth 
to delight and enchant the onlooker. Shoes of 
every kind stood in neat rows on the floor. 
Heavy silk hosiery lay close to them, rows and 
rows of gloves fronted these. In all her life 
Debb^y had never seen so many lovely things at 
one time. 

She went almost pale from pleasure and sur- 
prise, and then flushed rosy red. 

‘‘Here, try this on, dear”; said Mortimer 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


59 


Poole, and picked up a little coat of blue velvet, 
with a collar of grey squirrel. A saucy cap of 
the fur went with it, and the artist himself 
fitted it at the right angle on Debby ^s little head, 
standing back to view the effect with half- 
closed eyes. 

‘‘Yes, charming’’; he said to himself in a 
satisfied tone, and to Debby he added, “there’s 
a mirror, take a look at yourself. ’ ’ 

Debby never forgot that first glimpse of her- 
self in the pretty things for which she had 
always longed. And the reaction was im- 
mediate, and something about which, in the 
days to come, Mortimer Poole often teased her. 
From the dainty edge of squirrel at her knees, 
Del^by’s eyes travelled to the heavy black shoes 
she wore, shoes that were utterly out of keep- 
ing with the charming wrap of velvet and fur. 
And without further ado she ran to the rows of 
shoes, and selected, unerringly, the exact pair 
of delicate grey suede to go with it, and squat- 
ting down on the ground then and there, she put 
them on, arising breathless and red with effort 
to note her uncle’s approval. 

“I was waiting for you to do that!” he said 


60 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


quietly, and kissed her. ‘‘Debby, you and I 
are going to have a splendid time together, 
Little Comrade.’’ 

And as Debby went to sleep that night in the 
little white bed that had been her mothers, 
deliberately fighting back the tears that wanted 
to come because she so missed Silly ’s company, 
she told herself with a chuckle that Uncle Mort 
was certainly getting cheered up, although he 
might not know it himself. He was heaps 
‘‘cheerfuller” already! 


CHAPTER V 


Debby awoke to see a big, motherly looking 
woman moving about her room. 

She wore a softly rustling dress of black silk, 
and a little apron of sheer white stutf trimmed 
with lace. At her throat a big cameo brooch 
fastened a wisp of white, and her silvery hair 
was uncovered, and looked like a halo around 
her pleasantly pink face. Debby watched her 
for a minute, trying to remember where she 
was, and then it all came back to her, and she 
sat up in bed with a gasp and a little squeal of 
delight. 

^^Oh, you must be Mrs. Banning!’^ 

‘ ^ That ^s right, my dear, I am. But how did 
you guess 

‘^Why, Mumsy^s told us about you all our 
lives, of course, how you used to help her out of 
scrapes with grandpapa, and make maple fudge 
on the nursery stove. She just loved you, al- 
ways, and I feel as if you were a kind of grand- 
ma, Mrs. Banning, and not a bit as if I was 
61 


62 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


away from home. Will you give me a kiss?^^ 

^ ‘ Will I ? Bless your heart, I should say so ! ^ ’ 
Debhy was folded in a capacious embrace, and 
the good woman turned away, wiping her eyes. 

You Ye the living image of your mother. Miss 
Debby sweet, just the very spit of her, as she 
used to be in that same bed you’re in. ^Too- 
tie, ’ she ’d say to me, though why she called me 
Tootie no one knows, 1 never could fathom it, 
‘Tootie, you give me a real warm bath this 
morning, won’t you?’ For if ever a little lady 
hated the cold, it was your mother, Miss 
Debby.” 

A sudden vision came to Debby of her mother 
before the furnace tire, building it up on a 
morning when zero weather made it more than 
ever necessary, and the negligence of one or 
other of her children had allowed it to go out 
over-night. Yes, Mumsy still hated the cold, 
but she had suffered a lot of it, poor darling. 
Determinedly, Debby turned up the corners of 
her mouth, smiled though her eyes had filled 
with sudden tears. 

‘^Tootie,” she said laughing, like that 


DEBBY^S YEAR 63 

name for you too, dear Mrs. Banning. Please, 
I think I should like to get up now. ’ ^ 

She meant this as a polite hint to Mrs. Ban- 
ning to leave the room, but instantly the old 
woman was all attention. 

‘‘Yes, Miss Debbj,^’ she said with a respect- 
ful and businesslike air, “and how would you 
like your bath. Miss? Just a little warm, or — 
warmer ? ’ ’ 

Indulgence was in her tone, and Debby 
yielded. “Warmer, I think, she said with a 
genuine laugh, and threw back the covers to 
jump out of bed. 

But this she was not to be allowed to do 
alone, she found. With an agility that was 
surprising in one so stout, Mrs. Banning was 
at her side with a little fleece-lined kimono. 
Debby wrapped it around her, and stuck her 
feet into the fur-lined slippers that awaited 
them on the heavy rug. Her own clothes had 
entirely disappeared. The old slippers she had 
brought from home — ithey seemed old now, 
although they had been Mumsy^s best, she re- 
membered with a sigh, mentally deciding that 


64 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


she must find them some place and take them 
back to darhng Mumsy — ^were gone. So 
was her faded dressing gown of flannelette, 
and her clean underwear that she had care- 
fully spread out on a chair b^efore she went to 
bed. She felt a trifle puzzled, but obediently 
followed old Mrs. Banning to the bathroom. 

Such a bathroom, too! It opened out of 
Debby^s bedroom, and was all white and pale 
green. The tub was a big sunken one of 
marb^le, and as the warmer^’ water ran into 
it from the big silver faucet, Debby decided that 
she might almost swim in it. And the soaps 
— ^such wonderful big balls of faintly perfumed 
stuff, flanked by soft face cloths and big fluffy 
sponges as soft as silk. This was very differ- 
ent from the bathroom at home, which did 
duty for all the family. Debby felt that she 
had no right to all this delicious luxury, even 
though she revelled in it. 

The contrast was too great. Behind Mrs. 
Banning’s broad back as she stooped to test 
the water, Debby ’s little face wrinkled into a 
tearful mask. In another minute she would 
cry outright, and oh, if she did she would never 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


65 


get over it. Hadn’t she come here to make 
Uncle Mort happier? And to break down and 
cry the very first morning that she was here — 
it was unthinkable! Resolutely she pressed 
out the wrinkles with her rosy fingers, and 
made herself smile. When Mrs. Banning 
turned round, saying that the bath was now 
ready, she was smiling hard. 

‘‘I’ll go and get your clothes ready. Miss 
Debby, and when you’ve had your b,ath you 
can call me. You don’t want any help, I sup- 
pose ; Miss Helen was always very independent 
about bathing herself, too. It is something I 
like to see in a young lady.” 

“A young lady!” Debby echoed the words 
after her. Helen and Peggy had always 
snubbed her and told her she was only a kid. 
Just wait until she got home, and told them 
about this. Debby dropped her kimono and 
scampered about the bathroom tugging at her 
nightgown ; when she at last slid into the water 
It was with a resounding splash that brought a 
little delighted scream from Mrs. Banning. 

It was a very different thing to dress with 
a clever woman to help her, to arrange recalci- 


66 DEBBY’S YEAR 

trant locks and to tie ribbons and smooth down 
flounces, than to scramble into her clothes 
with the nearness of dear Silly as an addi- 
tional aggravation in the tiny room. Debby 
couldn^t help being happy when she at last 
surveyed herself in the mirror. She — she was 
almost — pretty ! 

‘‘Clothes do make a ditference, Tootie, don’t 
they?” she sighed frankly as she remembered 
her former image. If Cecilia had been dressed 
like this, for instance, although there was really 
nothing to the little dress of warm woollen stuff 
she wore, it was just as simple as could be, even 
the brown dresses at home had been a little 
more fussy — why, Cecilia would have been a 
dream. A scheme to invite Silly over here and 
dress her up formed in her head. IJncle Mort 
would surely admire her more than ever then, 
and how Silly would love it ! Dimpling, Debby 
ran down the broad shallow stairs to the break- 
fast room. 

Mrs. Banning had told her that Uncle Mort 
hated any one to be be late, but she must not 
be surprised if he were late himself. Artists, 
she had intimated soothingly, were not just 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


67 


exactly like ordinary gentlemen, they sometimes 
forgot. Debby had replied that inventors were 
much the same, no one could forget better than 
Baddy could, unless it might be Mr. Debison. 

Ve heard that he’s a very forgetful gentle- 
man,” said Tootie with interest, ^‘but when 
he’s so mighty smart a lot can b^e over-looked. 
What we’d do without all the modern things 
he’s thought up, now that we’re used to them, 
I’m sure I don’t know. Is it true. Miss Debby, 
do you know, that Mr. Debison once walked 
lame for a mile, and was terrible upset about 
it until he met a friend and found that he’d 
been walking with one foot on the sidewalk 
and the other in the gutter?” 

Debby dimpled again as she thought about 
that. She’d never heard that story, but it 
might well be true ! 

So — she did not mind having to wait a while 
for Uncle Mort. 

When at last he descended to the gay little 
room where breakfast for two awaited them be- 
fore a crackling log fire, he was in the gayest 
spirits. He wore a dressing gown of crimson 
satin, a thing that had been given to him by 


68 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


an Indian rajah, he said, and he looked rather 
majestic in it, Debby thought. 

She poured his coffee very carefully, with a 
natural deftness that had come to her from 
her father, and carried it round the table to 
him so that he should not be disturbed in 
glancing over his paper. 

Banning, entering at that moment, almost 
dropped the tray he carried, and when he went 
out again he told his wife that Miss Debby 
was more like an angel than a child, he had 
been so impressed. 

But Tootie, wise in the ways of children, 
merely laughed and shook her handsome white 
head. ‘‘You go dong,^^ she said, “a lot you 
know about little folks, old boy; there never 
was a child yet with all that go and sparkle as 
hadn’t plenty of the devil in ’em, too. Poor 
wee soul, I’m thinking she’s a hard row to hoe 
coming here to live with the master.” 

“He’s a fine man!” said Banning loyally. 
“Fine enough — ^for a man!” said his wife 
with scathing emphasis, “but no man living 
ever understood a child as well as a woman. 
Banning, and don’t you forget it.” 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


69 


Breakfast over, Mortimer Poole leant back 
in his chair and surveyed his niece through 
half-closed eyes. It was his ‘^artist-look^’ as 
Debby came to call it, and he was delighting 
in the grace and symmetry of the little girl 
before him, had she only known it. Growing 
rather nervous under his gaze, however, Debby 
reminded herself that she had come to cheer 
Uncle Mort up, and must not fail in her duty. 

“Uncle,” she said in a cheerful little voice, 
“don’t you think it would be nice to take a 
walk?” Her eyes glanced longingly out at the 
Hudson, where a steamer — flags flying — was 
sailing slowly northward in the sun. It was 
very cold, but the sun shone, and everywhere 
people appeared hurrying to church or walk- 
ing briskly along the Drive. To Debby, after 
the quiet of the little place she had lived 
in all her life, the sight was novel and charm- 
ing. 

“We’re going to church, aren’t we?” said 
Mortimer Poole. He had never been very re- 
ligious, but he always attended church, and he 
had a thrill of pleasure now at the thought of 
taking this beautiful child — the girl he in- 


70 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


tended to make his daughter and his heiress — 
with him to the church where he was so well 
known. He did not depreciate the fact that his 
entrance with her would cause a stir, and his 
artistes eye shewed him very plainly the pic- 
ture of the famous artist — ‘^so curious he has 
never married, my dear, they say he was crossed 
in love in his youth — hand in hand with the 
exquisite little person who would so soon be 
known as his own. He staged it all, in his 
mind^s eye, and Debby had no idea that it was 
this pleasant ordeal, and not her own good 
cheer, that made him laugh so pleasantly as 
he spoke. 

She began to feel quite important! It was 
very easy to be cheerful with Uncle Mortimer, 
after all. 

‘‘We don^t have to start for half an hour 
yet, though’’; he went on lazily, “come here 
and tell me if there is anything you specially, 
want — for your bedroom, or the little sitting 
room that is to be your own. Mrs. Banning 
will attend to everything she thinks of, and 
she knows what is right for a little girl to 
have, but you must have some things you’ve 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


71 


thought you would like. I didn^t give you a 
birthday present, you know.^^ 

‘‘Oh, but you did!’’ said Debby earnestly; 
“the others had all that money, and there was 
the splendid party — ” she paused, drawing a 
long breath. A rapturous thought had come 
to her, a thought that she hardly dared enter- 
tain. Her blue eyes darkened with earnestness, 
she clasped her little hands in front of her and 
stood perfectly still, her eyes on her uncle. 

“Did — did you say something for my room?” 
she faltered. 

“For your room — or for yourself; you can 
choose, Debby.” 

All her life Debby had been accustomed to 
economies, and now she could not realize that 
unlimited money was at her disposal. She 
flushed and paled, and her hands clasped and 
unclasped nervously as she thought of what 
she wanted, and thought that she must not — 
dared not — ask for such a big thing. Then, 
summoning all her courage as she met the 
friendly, interested expression on her uncle’s 
face, she asked another question. 

“Could I choose a present that’s just ter- 


72 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


ribly expensive, Uncle Mort? I don^t know 
just how much it would cost, but — ’’ 

He interrupted her with a laugh. 

‘^Go the limit, youngster, I guess the ex- 
chequer can stand it. Anything up to five hun- 
dred dollars.’’ 

Debby shifted from one foot to the other 
and paled a trifle. 

Uncle, can I have a rose-coloured eider- 
down?” 

Whatever he had expected, it had not been 
this. Mortimer Poole wanted to laugh, the 
matter was evidently of such moment to the 
child facing him. But instead the merely prac- 
tical consideration struck hirn. 

^‘My dear, of course; but wasn’t there an 
eiderdown on jyour bed, weren’t you warm 
enough last night?” 

^‘Yes,” said Debby very low, had a ’lic- 
ious blue one. Uncle Mort.^’ Some of the 
sparkle and intensity had gone out of her voice. 
Of course she couldn ’t do what she wanted with 
it, even if she had the eiderdown. But oh, 
how she wished she had the courage to tell 
Uncle Mort exactly what she desired. It was 


DEBBY’S YEAE 73 

so difficult, when he was really a stranger, 
though of course he was a relation. 

There was a little silence. Then Uncle Mort 
stretched out his hand and drew her to him. 

^‘Listen, little bird^^; he said, and his voice 
was like Mumsy^s when she had told her how 
she loved her, soft and tender; ‘‘I brought 
you here to make us both happier, and we 
shanT be that, Debby, unless we can share our 
secrets. I can see there is something you want 
to say, but you are afraid I shall not under- 
stand. Well, honey, I^m only a blundering 
old uncle, and I may not, but I give you my 
word 1^11 do my level best. Don’t you want to 
get it out of your system?” 

Debby, squeezed his hand, lifting trustful 
eyes of azure to the hazel ones above her own 
that were so wonderfully kind. 

‘^It seemed silly not to have been able to say 
it,” she said, ‘'but I thought — perhaps you 
wouldn ’t want to buy me something that I really 
wanted for somebody else. But you see, Mumsy 
does so feel the cold, and she hates having 
lots of heavy comforters and blankets, and 
when Daddy's away at the laboratory Silly 


74 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


and I and Helen and Peggy and Jane take it 
in turns to sleep with her, and always when 
she’s cold she’ll say: ^Just wait until my ship 
comes home; I’ll buy a rose-coloured eider- 
down!’ So you see, I thought — ” 

Mortimer Poole rose abruptly, turning to- 
wards the window. He did not look at his 
niece, and she wondered why, for when he 
turned to her his eyes twinkled with pleasure 
and his voice was happy with laughter. 

‘‘We’ll go tomorrow. Ladybird,” he said, 
‘ ‘ and buy the biggest and fluffiest rose-coloured 
eiderdown in the world.” 

But all the way to church he was pondering 
the situation, cursing himself for his selfish 
blindness and lack of thought all these years. 

His little sister, not even comfortable in 
winter, battling with economies all these years 
when he had retrieved the fj^mily fortunes 
and been able to buy back the house that his 
father’s speculations had lost, together with 
his fortune. Why hadn’t he thought of the ab- 
sent-minded improvidence of his brother-in-law, 
Debby’s clever father? He remembered, with 
an inward laugh, the spirited way in which 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


75 


Helen had torn his check in two the night of 
the party, thinking it had been a bribe to spare 
her Debby. And yet — to her, ten thousand 
dollars would have meant ease. Well, he^d 
make it up to her, together he and Debby 
would find a way. Bless her heart, didn^t the 
child have a thought for herself I 

She was a very normal little person, though. 
He chuckled to himself as he saw her surrepti- 
tiously glance into the plate glass windows of a 
store as they passed, and preen herself like any 
little bird. 

‘ ‘ Debby, why did you ever wear glasses T ^ he 
said, following the train of thought that had 
led him back to his first glimpse of her in 
that ugly brown frock. 

^^My eyes were weak when I was a baby, 
and I guess I just kept on with them. I al- 
ways hated them, though. Uncle, if I ever 
thought I could get to be beautiful — 

‘ ‘ Hush, you musn ’t be vain, Debby, ^ ’ he said 
with apparent sternness, although he wanted 
to laugh and tell her that she was a beauty 
already, and coming just then to the doors of 
his church, he added, quite in the method of an 


76 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


uncle in fiction jwho always does the right 
thing: ‘‘Beauty is only skin deep, honey.’’ 

“But the skin is all any one seesT^ said 
Debby in an aggrieved tone, and followed her 
new relative into church. 


CHAPTER VI 


Monday was a very busy day, though the 
rush and scramble of the morning was very 
different from the rush of a Monday morning 
at home. 

Debby, while Tootie did her hair, flufl&ng out 
the curling tendrils with loving hands, had time 
to think about the day before. The walk up 
Fifth Avenue after church, the meeting with 
several of Uncle MorUs friends, the way in 
which they one and all seemed to be glad to 
take her into their circle, although she was 
only a little girl. Then there had been tea in 
the studio — that splendid and bewildering place 
of many colours and draperies, the most beau- 
tiful room, Debby thought, that she had ever 
seen, even in pictures — and several pretty wo- 
men had talked to her softly and delightfully, 
praising the way in which she poured tea. And 
afterwards the dinner with Uncle Mort in the 
vast dining ropm^ when she wore a little silk 
77 


78 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


frock that Mrs. Banning selected for her, and 
the string of coral that had been her mother ^s 
when she was a little girl too. It was all like 
a dream, but a bewildering and wonderful 
dream from which Debby never wanted to 
awaken. 

At breakfast, Uncle Mortimer was very busi- 
nesslike. Before him Banning had spread a list 
laboriously written in a cramped old hand, 
which Debby knew had been made out by 
Tootie. 

‘^Mrs. Banning presents this with her compli- 
ments ! ^ ^ Banning had told his master, and Mor- 
timer Poole had bent over it, frowning, try- 
ing to decipher the list. 

Then, with a laugh, he had given it up and 
taken out his wallet. 

‘^Jersualem! Banning, does your wife think 
I can attend to all this detail? Why should I 
buy Miss Debby ^s lingerie when there is a 
capable woman in the house who would be glad 
to do it for me? Take these bills to Mrs. Ban- 
ning, and tell her to order a taxi and go and 
buy all that is necessary herself. If this isnT 
enough, she can charge things to me at any of 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


79 


the stores. I won’t kick at the bills; only — 
I want everything — ^everything that is suit- 
able for Miss Debby’s position, you understand. 
No skimping — nothing tawdry!” 

Debby opened her mouth to speak. Already 
she had piles and piles of underwear, piles of 
stockings, piles of eve'rything she had ever 
needed all her life. How on earth could Mrs. 
Banning have thought of anything else — any 
single thing — that she needed. She must cer- 
tainly save Uncle Mort all this expense ! 

But she had an idea that he would not want 
her to say this in front of Banning, so she 
waited until the old man had gone from the 
room with their grapefruit plates, and the crisp 
bacon and delicately browned mushrooms were 
before them, before speaking. 

Uncle Mort,” she began then breathlessly, 
really don’t need another thing. Why, 
I’ve drawers full of everything. I don’t want 
to be an extravagance to you. ’ ’ 

Mortimer Poole threw back his head and 
roared with laughter. He had the most delight- 
ful laugh, and Debby joined him, she could 
not help it. Presently, when he had wiped the 


80 DEBBY^S YEAR 

tears of mirth from his eyes, he spoke gravely. 

‘‘An extravagance, Debby dear, of course 
you ’re an extravagance ! Any woman — though 
you’re not a woman, you’re just a child, thank 
the Lord! — is always an extravagance. How 
do you think the money would get spent if it 
were not for your charming sex?” And he 
made her a little bow. 

Debby had a rather hurt feeling that he was 
laughing at her, although his face was grave. 
“I — don’t know about that. Uncle Mortimer,” 
she said, “but I should think you spend a lot 
yourself ! ’ ’ And her eyes rested on his break- 
fast lounging coat of oriental silk. 

“Good for you, honey!” said her relative, 
and once again he threw back that handsome 
head and laughed until the tears came. 

‘ ‘I ’ll tell you, ’ ’ he said then, ‘ ‘ the things you 
have, dear, were just bought on the spur of 
the moment to do until things might be ordered 
for you. Nothing you have is hand-made, which 
I understand from Mrs. Banning is essential for 
a little lady in your position. You are a rich 
man’s daughter now, Debby, and you have to 
play up to the position, you know. I am not 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


81 


going to trust Mrs. Banning to see to your out- 
side clothes, of course, that I shall attend to 
myself. When school is over this afternoon 
Idl have Fisher call for you in the car, and 
you can meet me at Madame Louison^s. She^s 
a very famous dressmaker for young girls, and 
as I did her a favour once I think she will un- 
dertake your clothes. By Jove, we must be 
off! I can^t land you at school late on the 
first morning. 

Stepping from the big car to the sidewalk, 
Debby looked about her with interest as they 
reached Miss Tence’s school. 

It was a fine old house, standing back from 
the road and surrounded almost entirely by a 
high brick wall, mellowed with age. It had 
been the home, years before, of a famous Dutch 
settler, an ancestor of the Tence family, and 
Miss Tence loved it, and was happy to have such 
a splendid background for her girls. For Miss 
Tence was a real educationalist, and did not 
conduct the usual finishing seminary by any 
means. And any girl educated at Miss Tence ^s 
had a certain standing in the community that 
was to be obtained in no other way. Of course 


82 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


Debby did not know tbis, but she was impressed 
by the old place on her first sight of it, neverthe- 
less. 

As for Miss Tence herself, with her high- 
piled white hair, her yonng face, the soft rich 
voice that conld be just as gay as it might be 
severe, Debby instantly fell in love with her. 
The little girl and the tall, dignified woman 
stood hand in hand for an instant, studying each 
other. Then, with a little laugh. Miss Tence 
turned to Mortimer Poole, indicating a chair. 

^‘WonT you sit down? You see, we are go- 
ing to be friends, Debby and 

For a minute or two Debby was subjected to 
a searching cross-examination. It did not take 
long for Miss Tence to place the girls who 
came under her care. 

‘‘Yes,’^ she said, ‘‘youTe about right for 
your age, and that is what I like to see, Mr. 
Poole, a child who is normal, not too clever and 
not too dull. I think Debby will go into the 
class we call 3B, and she will have companions 
she will like, I am sure. Now, Debby, suppose 
you go into this room adjoining for a few 
minutes, while I talk with your uncle ? ’ ^ 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


83 


She took the little girl to the door of a room 
opening otf her drawing-room, and told her to 
amuse herself, then returned to the artist. 

The room in which Debby found herself was 
furnished very simply, and was, as she soon 
found out, a place where Miss Tence put girls 
to whom she wished to talk seriously, or who 
were not exactly well. There was a big divan 
in one corner, close to the window, and as Debby 
walked towards it rapidly, with the idea of 
looking out into the grounds, the daintiest little 
girl she had ever seen popped up from behind 
the cushions and looked at her curiously. 

She had a tangled mop of red hair, eyes of 
the deepest blue, and the tiniest hands and 
feet. She was rather like a doll, Debby thought, 
only few dolls were quite so pretty. 

beg your pardon,’^ said Debby, ‘^Miss 
Tence told me to come in here — 

“Of course,’^ said the little girl in a warm 
kind of voice, “it isnT my room, you know. In 
fact, I’m sure Tence darling doesn’t know I 
am here. You are the new girl, aren’t you? 
What is your name ? ’ ’ 

“Debby Jannison,” 


84 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


‘^Mine is Elizabeth Warde, but every one 
calls me Little-Bit, partly because I ’m so small, 
you know, and it started, I guess, when I 
couldn^t speak plain and I used to try to say 
Elizabeth.’^ She ended with a merry laugh. 

‘‘Little-Bit sounds just like you look!’^ said 
Debby shyly. 

“Yes, but not the way I feel,’’ said Little- 
Bit, “I feel — oh, so huge sometimes, as if I 
owned the universe.” And she stretched out 
her arms as if she would fly. “Do you know 
what I mean!” she asked Debby sharply. 

“Yes; on Saturdays and holidays,” said 
Debby, a warm little flush coming to her cheeks. 
“Then Mumsy lets us have a picnic sometimes 
in the summer, and we go way off in the 
woods, and when we ’ve had our lunch I wander 
off by myself into the darkness and dream. 
Then I feel — feel — ” she paused for a word. 

“Huge?” said Little-Bit. 

“Not huge, exactly, but different. Not a bit 
like just plain Debby Jannison.” 

“You are a day pupil, aren’t you?” 

Little-Bit shifted the conversation with char- 
acteristic suddenness. “I’m a boarder, more 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


85 


of a boarder than most, too, for I don’t go home 
when term ends. That’s the worst of having 
an explorer for a father ; he goes off for years 
and years, sometimes. I was only nine when 
I saw him last. But of course he is wonderful. 
I wish he’d just let me stay out West on the 
ranch, though, instead of sending me East to 
school. He did it, of course, because my mother 
was educated here.” 

^‘So was mine!” cried Debby warmly. She 
thought she had never met any one quite as 
sweet and pretty as this Little-Bit. Her eyes 
grew round with wonder as she thought of what 
the other girl had said. 

^^Do you live on a ranch?” she asked, ‘‘and 
are there cowboys there and do you have round- 
ups and things, as they do in the movies? Oh, 
I call that perfectly thrilling!” 

“It would be — if I’d stayed there”; said 
Little-Bit wistfully, “but of course I really re- 
member very little, in a way, because Papa was 
gone for four years the last time, and he sent 
me off here to Miss Tence when I was only five. 
I’m like her baby, in a way, and she’s the most 
beauteous person — ” 


86 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


^ ‘ So I think, ^ ^ said Debby eagerly, ‘‘I’m crazy 
about her already.” 

“All the girls are; my dear, if I told you 
what that woman does — ” Little-Bit sat up 
straighter, her eyes filled with blue fire. Her 
words and tone were evidently copied from 
that of some of the older girls, but Debby did 
not know this. She merely admired Little-Bit ’s 
composure and poise. And she was such a 
thimbleful! At the thought she laughed out, 
and Little-Bit stopped in her eulogy of Miss 
Tence and looked at her inquiringly. 

“It’s nothing,” said Debby, giggling again, 
“I was just thinking that you are like the 
fairy princess in the story. Do you remember, 
she wasn’t any bigger than a thimble? Oh, I 
should like my uncle to see you, he’d want to 
paint you, perhaps. He’s an artist, you know. 
I am living with him now, he calls me his daugh- 
ter. But of course that’s absurd, really, be- 
cause I have a Daddy of my own. Only he’s 
not much more use than yours is, for anything 
practical, because he ’s an inventor, and he lives 
with Mr. Debison up in the stars!” 

It was a phrase she had heard a neighbour 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


87 


use about her father, and she was rather proud 
of it. And it did not take Little-Bit any time 
to see what she meant, either, and they laughed 
together merrily again, until Mortimer Poole 
and Miss Tence, in the next room, laughed 
also, catching the contagion. 

Suddenly Little-Bit leant forward eagerly, 
her face one mass of emotions. ‘^Oh,’’ she 
said, her voice almost awed, ‘ ‘ are you the niece 
of Mr. Poole who painted ^The Forgotten Des- 
ert 

— I don^t know,’^ said Debhy in some con- 
fusion. ‘ ‘ Uncle Mort ’s name is Poole, and he ^s 
an artist, hut I don’t know the names of his 
pictures yet. You see, I only started living 
in his house on Saturday night.” 

And in a rush, the whole story came tumbling 
out. How Uncle Mortimer was lonely, and 
needed to be cheered, how Debhy had been 
chosen to fill the important position. How — ■ 
with a wistful smile — she missed Mumsy and 
the girls and dear Silly. 

When she ended, Little-Bit had climbed ofp 
the lounge and sat with her little hand in Deb- 
by’s larger one, her face filled with sweet con- 


88 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


oern. ‘‘Oh, you must feel like — ^like the man in 
the picture I We been telling you about, the man 
in ‘ The Forgotten Desert. ^ When recess comes 
I’ll show it to you ; I always thought it looked a 
bit like my Papa, so I have a copy in my room. 
Let us be chums, Debby Jannison, and do every- 
thing together, will you? You see, we have the 
same kind of lives, in a way, though of 
course — ” she paused to consider this, her tiny 
head on one side, as if she were a little bird, 
Debby thought, her eyes bright with feeling — 
“in a way you’re better off, because you have 
a mother. I don’t even know what it feels like 
to say the word!” 

She repeated it softly, meditatively to her- 
self, while Debby listened. And all through 
that strange new day of initiation in a method 
of teaching she had never known, every now 
and again Debby would lift her eyes and catch 
a glimpse of Little-Bit’s tawny head, and hear 
the gentle voice — that could be so spirited! — 
say over and over again the dear word she 
had never learned to use. 

‘ ‘ Mother — mother — mother ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VII 


It was a very breathless and rosy little girl 
who left Madame Louison^s discreet grey- 
fronted door in the Fifties, and entered the 
waiting limousine with her uncle. 

‘ ‘ Girondi ^s, ^ ’ he said to the chauffeur, and 
settled back on the deeply cushioned seat beside 
Debby. 

By George, he thought as he looked at her, 
but he was proud of the child! How she^d 
carried herself through that interview with the 
Frenchwoman, who vowed that not for all the 
gold in Christendom would she undertake to 
dress another child. She was sick of children, 
and she could not manage that type, anyhow. 
To make a success, she wished a girl with red 
hair, azure eyes, the saint of the Old Masters. 
Ah! they had known! And through half- 
closed almond eyes she had studied Mortimer 
Poole. 

‘‘You would like my friend Elizabeth Warde, 
80 


90 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


then, Madame Louison’^; Debby had said, ‘‘I 
am sorry I do not look as she does. I never 
had any Inck about looks, Uncle Mortimer 
knows that.^^ And she had stepped down 
from the little stage where the dress- 
maker had asked her to stand while she stud- 
ied her points, and picked up the tiny hand- 
bag Little-Bit had given her as she left school 
that afternoon. 

‘‘Uncle, I have lots of dresses, anyhow!’^ 

Of course it had been utterly unconscious, 
but it had brought Madame Louis on to her 
senses. She had remarked in an utterly dif- 
ferent tone that she liked to see a child with 
as much practical commonsense, and then to 
Mortimer Poole, in French, that the Mademoi- 
selle Debby was the most perfectly soul-satisfy- 
ing child she had seen in a century. In a week 
her clothes should be the talk of New York — 
so simple that they would have the grande air, 
and she could rush them, it was not a busy 
season. No “ElizabeU^ should be more beauti- 
ful than this adorable child. Each frock must 
be a gem,, without flaw! She had adopted 


DEBBY^S YEAE 91 

Debby almost as definitely as Mortimer Poole 
himself. 

And — ^Debby knew nothing of it. She had 
danced out of the establishment, and then run 
back to kiss Madame Louison, in a sudden burst 
of gratitude upon which Mortimer Poole 
frowned. Exuberance for himself or for her 
equals was all right, but for a dressmaker — ! 

However, he said nothing to Debby, and she 
sat in a blissful dream as they rolled along 
to Girondi ^s to buy the rose-coloured eiderdown 
for Mumsy. 

want an eiderdown,’’ Mortimer Poole 
said to the young woman who smilingly asked 
his pleasure, ‘‘something unusually good and 
attractive in rose-colour.” 

“I can show you a beauty for a hundred dol- 
lars,” said the clerk, “kindly step this way.” 

“Something around that price will be all 
right”; said the artist, “I am not particular 
as long as we get what we want, eh, Debby?” 

He looked questionably at his niece and 
smiled, but to his amazement she shook her 
little head, froAvning. “Uncle Mort,” she said 


92 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


in a severe whisper, ‘‘don’t you know any more 
about shopping than that? Why, now she’ll 
show you things much more expensive than 
that, even; you just see if she doesn’t! You 
should pretend you don’t want to pay so much. 
Why, who ever heard of giving a hundred dol- 
lars for an eiderdown?” 

‘ ‘ Plenty of people, I expect ! ’ ’ said her uncle, 
smiling, ‘ ‘ but all the same you ’re right, Debby, 
suppose you manage this I But remember, lady- 
bird, you can pay anything you want and get 
the very best.” 

“I — know”; said Debby hesitatingly, “but 
Uncle, Mumsy says that if the people who 
can pay didn’t do it so easily, prices would not 
be so high. Don’t you think if we can get it 
cheaper we ought to?” 

She was so adorably serious about it that the 
artist hid his amusement and nodded. Besides, 
he had to confess that she spoke truly ; his lav- 
ish, unconsidered way of paying whatever sum 
was asked for a thing that took his fancy 
was a factor, without doubt, in keeping prices 
up. And for the first time for many years he 
was confronted with the practical application of 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


93 


a theory of this kind. Helen — his little sister 
— had suffered because he had given in to his 
extravagant tastes without thought. He be- 
came grave as he thought about it, and Debby 
wondered uneasily if Uncle Mort was feeling 
sad about something. But in another instant 
she became absorbed in the eiderdowns that 
were thrown, in artful confusion, over tall 
stands shaped something like Uncle Mortis 
easel. 

There were all kinds and tones of rose colour. 
Satin and silk and even chiffon covered them. 
Some were plain and some had tiny figured 
flowers on them. Debby was in ecstasies, but 
she kept this feeling out of sight as well as 
she could, and only her shining eyes betrayed 
her as she asked prices and felt fabrics with 
all the air of a woman of thirty. Presently, 
her choice narrowed down to three, and then 
she asked her uncle’s advice: ‘‘Uncle Mort, 
do you think this beauty with the white border 
would wear quite as well as the plujfy, fluffy 
one of all rose? I— I love the blue underside 
to that other one, but it wouldn’t be exactly a 
rose-coloured eiderdown then, would it?” 


94 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


‘‘What do you men by pluftyT’ said Mor- 
timer Poole with interest, thaPs a new one 
on me.’’ 

Debby giggled. “You know, fluffy is iiuffy, 
but pluffy means sort of firm as well. I — I 
think I’d like the all-rose one. Uncle dear, if 
it isn’t too much money, it is eighty dollars!” 
Her tone was breathless. Eighty dollars at one 
time, for a bed covering! She knew that a 
whole lot of blankets, could have been bought 
for that money, and perhaps she ought to have 
bought blankets ! But all the same — sob rose 
in her throat — Mumsy must have something she 
really wanted, for once. Oh, how she wished 
she might snuggle down under the pretty cover 
the first time that Mumsy used it, and see how 
delighted she was! For a minute her voice 
sounded strange in her own ears as she thanked 
Uncle Mortimer for saying that he admired 
her choice, and taking out his wallet to pay for 
it with a matter-of-fact air. But he did not 
seem to hear it, so that was all right, and in a 
minute she could laugh again just as usual. 

But as the clerk was sending away the eider- 
down to be wrapped and placed in the wait- 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


95 


ing car, Uncle Mortimer stopped her, and turn- 
ing to Debby made a suggestion. ^‘What do 
you think about sending a quilted kimono to 
go with the eiderdown U’ he said, “they keep 
nice ones here, the warmest you ever saw, and 
so pretty.^’ 

The eager light in her eyes answered him, and 
he gave the order with a cool air that belied the 
sudden mist in his own eyes. Such a little 
thing, and yet it meant so much. Surely every 
human being had a right to warmth and food 
and laughter ! It wasnT as if the Jannisons 
were poor people, and yet all these years Helen 
had been denying herseK little comforts, little 
necessities, they seemed to him, to give more 
to her children or her husband. He supposed 
she still encouraged — even urged Paignton Jan- 
nison to buy all the expensive instruments 
and equipment for his own experiments! It 
was preposterous, it ought not to be allowed. 
He cleared his throat loudly and criticized the 
silk of the kimono with unwonted sternness, all 
because his emotions had threatened to get the 
better of him. 

Finally, however, they found one to his lik- 


96 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


ing, and he paid the bill with a lordly indiffer- 
ence to price that hurt Debby^s carefully 
trained sense of shopping values. She would 
just as soon have gone to Pacy^s to buy 
the articles, and she knew nothing, of 
course, of the immense overhead expenses of 
a store of the type of Girondi^s. It distressed 
her that Uncle Mort should part with his money 
so readily, and she determined to keep a tight 
hold on Mr. Debison ^s hundred dollars, so that 
if ever her uncle should need any money, she 
would have it to give him. The very thought 
made her chuckle to herself gleefully, and her 
little face was alight with mischievous laughter 
as they left the store and entered the car. All 
Uncle MorUs questions could not find out what 
amused her, however, and at last he was con- 
tent to sit back and watch her while he listened 
to her chatter. He thought he would never 
grow tired of hearing the sweet, merry little 
voice of this child he was beginning almost to 
worship. 

If — his eyes became dreamy I Suppose he 
had married Alicia and this had been their 
child, this little Debby with the merry heart! 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


97 


She had some of Alidads ways, he thought, and 
her eyes, clear and steady, held the innocent 
look that had been Alicia ^s to the end. Was 
it possible, he asked himself uneasily for the 
first time in all these years, that he had mis- 
judged this little love of his who had gone out 
of his life so completely, taking all the sun- 
shine of love with her? But no, the facts were 
too conclusive. Again stem lines of misery 
came around his mouth. Alicia had left him 
one thing, ambition. He hoped, if she were 
anywhere in the world, that she would see his 
picture ^^The Forgotten Desert,’^ and under- 
stand what she had done to him. 

He remembered now the way in which the in- 
spiration for that picture that had placed him at 
once in the front rank of modern artists, given 
him a popularity and wealth that does not al- 
ways attend success in the arts, had come to 
him. He^d been in Egypt for a while, on his 
return from the African desert, and was de- 
lighted to get back to civilization again. But 
the thought of the desert kept coming to his 
mind. While he was eating at the luxurious 
hotel, sleeping in the soft bed they gave him, 


98 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


laughing and talking with friends, the memory 
was right behind him, it seemed. He couldn^t 
get away from it though he had hated it. And 
he began wondering, wondering about the men 
he saw around him. 

Some of them had made their money in just 
such places as this desert seemed to him. Oil 
— copper — diamonds ; the wealth that is drawn 
from the bowels of the earth with sweat and 
tears. Had any of the men he saw around 
him a memory like his, intensified a hundred 
times by hardship and endurance? 

One man in particular interested him; a big 
brawny prospector who wore his evening 
clothes with a lazy, indifferent air that sat 
well upon him. He was always perfectly 
groomed, perfectly at ease, but Mortimer had 
fancied in his eyes a hungry look, a longing 
for less luxury, and gradually, from his 
thoughts and observation, ‘‘The Forgotten 
Desert’’ had grown into being, a thing with a 
hidden story behind it, a magic of colour and 
mastery of technique that brought, even to the 
uninitiated, the glow of pleasure. In this pic- 


DEBBY^S YEAB 99 

ture Mortimer Poole had done the almost 
impossible thing. 

Had he known it, Little-Bit had shown Debby 
the copy she loved so, and the picture was very 
completely in the little girPs mind as she rode 
down the Avenue on this bright winter after- 
noon beside the man who had painted it. 

She could see the big room, with the decor- 
ated table and the women in beautiful 
gowns and jewels, the gleaming glass, the 
shining silver. All this was the background 
for the man who stood at the head of it, 
glass in hand, toasting his friend, the man 
dressed as they all were, in decorous black, 
but with something different about him, a 
look of the wilds. And in his eyes, it was plain, 
the present scene appeared no longer, for he 
was looking away to the desert — ^fiery, arid, 
panting and silent — that the artist had painted 
unerringly as a master alone may paint, — ^but 
which you knew, as you looked, was not there 
except in the man’s mind. ‘‘The Forgotten 
Desert” ! Debby was only a little girl, but she 
had thrilled at that picture, thrilled that Uncle 


100 DEBBY^S YEAR 

Mortimer should be her uncle. It lent the 
air she had towards him something of indul- 
gence. Whatever he did, however he acted, he 
was a supreme genius! That wasn’t her 
phrase, it was what Little-Bit had said. Little- 
Bit had all kinds of unusual words and ways 
of saying things. It made her more than ever 
fascinating ! 

Uncle Mortimer had heard all about Little- 
Bit, about her lessons, about Mademoiselle, who 
was so frigid she never spoke to any one except 
in French. ^‘Little-Bit says her English is 
beautiful, too; Uncle, wouldnH you think she’d 
want to use it sometimes? She is a real bru- 
nette, when her eyes flash — she gets awfully 
angry sometimes! — she looks terrible. Oh, if 
she ever looked at me like that — ’ 

“What would you do?” 

Mortimer was curious. Had the child any 
fear in her, he wondered? 

But while he waited, and as Uebby had her 
lips parted to reply, she bent forward and sig- 
nalled wildly to the chauffeur. 

“Oh, stop, please stop! Uncle Mort, there’s 
Paignton ! ’ ’ 


DEBBY^S YEAB 


101 


The clear voice carried out to the sidewalk, 
and Paignton stopped at the sound of his own 
name. For a second he blinked unrecognizingly 
at the sight of the dainty little figure that hurled 
itself from the limousine almost before it had 
stopped, and threw itself upon him. Then in 
accents of amazement he cried: ‘‘Gee, it^s 
Debby’^; and looked at her, grinning broadly. 

Mortimer Poole, watching it all, felt a kind 
of restriction in the region of the heart. Not 
in this way did Debby speak to him! Neither 
did her face light up quite as it had done for 
this big brother. Pshaw ! he told himself, why 
should it! He had known her exactly three 
days, days of change and surprise, while this 
boy was her brother, had pulled her hair and 
teased her for all the years of her life. He 
could not expect to supplant Paignton and 
Helen and Harold-William right oft the bat. 
More leisurely he had descended from the car 
and now approached the two. 

“ Come back, my boy, and have dinner with 
ips.’^ He motioned towards the car with a 
hospitable hand. 

“Thank you, sir, but I am afraid not.^^ 


102 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


Paignton hesitated for an excuse, growing 
rather red. He could not say that his mother 
had told him to give Debby a wide berth, should 
he meet her in the city, until she had oppor- 
tunity to become more accustomed to her new 
life. ^^You know Debby, Paignton,’^ she had 
said, “she^s so intense about everything she 
does. If once she gets homesick — 

Perhaps Debby had some idea of the reason 
for his refusal, for she became suddenly ener- 
getically and eagerly cheerful. She bubbled 
laughter and high spirits for her brother to 
notice, and when he said again, as Mortimer 
pressed him, that he really must get home, she 
asked her uncle if they could not drive him to 
the ferry? 

‘‘Paignton, you 11 be able to take my pres- 
ent to Mumsy!’^ she said delightedly, “it^s 
awfully bulky, but I think you can manage it, 
can 1 you, it isn 1 really heavy ! ’ ’ Her tone was 
so anxious, as she watched his face, that Paign- 
ton buried his disgust at having to lug such a 
huge package home, and promised to take it. 
“What’s in it?” he said with pardonable curi- 
osity, and when he heard, his round, boyish 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


103 

face on which the first faint traces of down were 
appearing on the upper lip, glowed with pleas- 
ure. ‘‘Well now,’’ he said, “I call that fright- 
fully decent of you, Uncle Mort, honest, you’re 
top-hole!” 

“My dear boy — ” said Mortimer Poole, 
moved in spite of himself, “this isn’t from me, 
you know, it’s Debby’s little gift.” 

“But he bought a padded fur-trimmed silk 
kimono for Mumsy, too, and that is from him ! ’ ’ 
Debby said triumphantly. “Oh, Paignton, it 
must be wonderful to have a lot of money! 
You can do so many things for everybody — ” 

She paused, out of breath, and if the others 
had been looking closely they would have seen 
the tears well up in her eyes and be as steadily 
forced back again. At this minute, Debby 
wanted nothing as much as to go home with 
Paignton to the family supper. It would be 
rowdy and the meal would be of the simplest, 
and probably Peggy would have been studying 
and have burned the toast, and Daddy might 
have to eat his supper over at the laboratory, 
but it was home. Debby caught desperately 
at her cheerfulness^ and managed a laugh as her 


104 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


brother climbed out of the car to take the ferry. 

‘^Be sure and tell Mumsy that I have gone 
to Miss Tence’s, Paignton/’ she called after 
him, and added, with a forlorn little smile into 
the deepening night that neither of the men 
saw, ^^and tell her how much I laughed, too!” 

^ ‘ That ’s nothing new, you always do I ” said 
Paignton with brotherly candour. ‘^But holy 
smoke, sis, I’m going to tell the girls what a 
swell you look; what you bet they’ll be wild? 
Women,” — said Paignton loftily to his uncle, in 
a manner that he had only acquired since he had 
started in business and that Debby eyed with 
demure scorn — ‘‘are always crazy about 
clothes, even if they’re as homely as a mud 
fence. Not but what — ” and he looked 
pointedly at Debby — “clothes do make a 
difference, on any oneV’ 

With a malicious grin he disappeared into the 
night, carrying the bulky package that Debby 
had forced upon him. 


CHAPTER VIII 


The days went by in a whirling rnsh for 
Hebby after the first few days. 

It took a surprisingly short time for her to 
become adjusted to the regime of her new life, 
and Mortimer Poole, meeting his little niece at 
all hours of the day, wondered how he had ever 
managed without her. 

There was a real delight in hearing her 
chatter about her school life. He became 
thoroughly acquainted with Mademoiselle, who 
was the arch enemy of the class, 3B, in which 
Debby had been placed. For what reason, the 
artist had not been able to discover exactly. 
Possibly, because Mademoiselle insisted that 
the girls talk French, and with the disdain of 
their age they despised any language except 
their own. Or — it might be that the attitude of 
Henrietta Van Marten had something to do 
with it, for Henrietta was a leader of her school 
class, just as distinctly as her mother was a 
leader of the smarter young set of the Four 

105 


106 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


Hundred. But somehow, Mortimer Poole 
hoped it was not that! He loved Hehb^ too 
much to succumb lightly to the thought of her 
following any other girPs lead blindly. 

One afternoon, waiting in the car for Hebby 
to come from dancing class, he saw Henrietta, 
a tall blond girl with great brown eyes and a 
firm mouth. There was no likeness at this age 
— Henrietta was thirteen ! — to her mother, but 
of course that might develop, Mortimer Poole 
told himself, watching the girl spring into her 
saddle — a man had been waiting with two 
horses — and seeing her speak crossly to the 
groom. 

Spoilt!^’ he said to himself. 

Like a statue Henrietta sat there in the 
winter wind, her hands on the reins, her leather 
coat protecting her from the keen wind. 

Presently, with a rush and a chatter that 
brought a warmth he did not try to control to 
her uncle ’s heart, Hebby came out with another 
girl, waved her hand gaily to her uncle, and 
passed on to Henrietta’s side, standing talking 
for a moment and looking up at her with an 
amused air. Part of their conversation came 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


107 


back to Mortimer Poole, and suddenly, at a 
change of tone from Henrietta, he bent forward 
and listened, to be sure that he did not lose a 
word. 

‘'But Henny — '' said Debby with a little 
laugh, “you know I didn^t laugh at you, it was 
just the whole thing. Mademoiselle there by 
the piano, calling us to order in angry French, 
old Mr. Smith, the blind man who fiddles while 
we dance, and Madame Corbe — round as a rub- 
ber ball, how she ever can dance is a mystery 
to me, let alone teach us, though she’s as light 
as a feather, of course! — clapping her hands 
softly and telling us to restrain ourselves, and 
you and Marjorie solemnly cake-walking by 
yourselves as if there were no one else in the 
room — ” she broke off, her laughter getting the 
better of her. “Why,” she said again when 
she could command her voice, “if it had been 
me and I had fallen down as you did, you’d have 
laughed out fast enough. Oh, you don’t know 
how funny you looked!” And she pealed ofi 
into a silvery chime of amusement again, as she 
mentally saw the scene once more. 

Henrietta’s face grew pale; the hands 


Il08 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


gripping the lines were clenched. Mortimer 
Poole could not see her eyes, but he knew her 
mother and her reckless fits of temper, and he 
guessed that the girPs eyes smouldered in the 
same way. He heard her give an ugly little 
laugh with a sneering emphasis, and then she 
drawled slowly: it had been you. Miss Jan- 

nison, I might have laughed, of course! That 
is a very different thing from having you laugh 
at me. I am Henrietta Van Marten. 

All the insolence of two generations of spoilt 
and pampered life hissed in her words. Hebby 
listened as if she had not heard aright, and 
waiting, Mortimer Poole clenched his own fists. 
He longed to get out, and although Henrietta 
was a girl, to shake her until her teeth 
chattered. But — this would not help Hebby. 
She must handle this horrid situation herself if 
she were to master Henrietta. He waited with 
a feeling of almost intolerable suspense to see 
what the little girl would do. 

For an instant she did nothing. Then, she 
raised her eyes to Henrietta's, and a flash of 
blue fire came to Mortimer Poole; Debb^ was 
really angry this time, she was going to fight. 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


109 


The artist longed to applaud the slender figure 
standing there so erect, and then he heard 
Debby say, clearly and in an icy little voice; 
turning to the girl who was with her : 
‘^Marjorie, I donT want you to take part in 
this, but you are a witness to what I am saying 
now. Henrietta Van Marten has insulted me, 
and she must take back her words. I want to 
tell you, Henrietta,’’ she said rapidly, ‘Hhat 
my family is a great deal better than yours for 
no one in it would say an unkind word or be as 
uncouth as you have been. I — I guess you’d 
better write your apology!” 

Hebby was a little younger, and she was a 
new girl at Miss Tence’s while Henrietta had 
been there from childhood and her mother and 
grandmother before her. She knew that she 
was courting disaster in her school life if Hen- 
rietta chose to be angry for a long time, but she 
did not care. This insult to the Jannisons had 
to be taken care of, and if she let Henrietta 
ride rough-shod over her now, she might as well 
give in and kow-tow for ever, she told herself. 
This wasn’t the first time Henrietta had tried 
to make her do as she wished, bow to her will. 


110 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


and all the independence of her spirit rose up 
in arms at the idea. She liked Henny all right 
as a rule; she was a lazy girl, but she had a 
certain charm that no one could deny, and she 
could be perfectly adorable when she liked. 
But this — this was going too far. ‘‘Just be- 
cause she^s annoyed at Madame Corbe for re- 
porting her, she picks on me!” said Debby to 
herself. 

“Yah! I guess you see me write an apology 
to any girl from who-knows-where, ” said Hen- 
rietta, for all the world like a child from the 
gutter, Mortimer thought, and furiously, she 
slashed at the horse with the riding whip she 
held in her hands. 

The animal had been standing for some time, 
and this sudden vicious onslaught took it 
totally by surprise. It was a spirited animal, 
and plunged and rose and clattered in a 
dangerous display of hoofs and temper. Mor- 
timer Poole saw the groom, sitting his own 
mount, grow white with apprehension, and in a 
moment he himself had alighted and stood on 
the sidewalk, his instinct to protect Debby. 

Then — his heart stood still ! 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


111 


A little figure had darted from the sidewalk 
and out into the roadway and straight for the 
horse’s head. Debby gave a superhuman 
spring, it seemed to those who watched, and 
had the horse by the bit holding on as it plunged 
to and fro. Henrietta, half-mad with fear, 
pulled on the reins and shouted, and each move- 
ment of her hands added new terror to the 
scene. But the groom, master of himself now, 
stood up and pulled the lines away from her, 
and spoke to the wild animal in a soothing tone. 
The touch of his firm hand on the reins, the 
weight of the child who hung on, doggedly, to 
its head, all had its effect. In a moment the 
horse quieted down, and the groom sprang to 
its head. 

‘‘Thank you, miss!” he said to Debby very 
respectfully, and wiped the sweat from his 
brow. “Bludgeon here is a kicker, I was 
afraid he’d get started and take us all to king- 
dom come ; you prevented that. He was a sur- 
prised boss, he was!” and he stroked the 
horse ’s trembling body. 

No one spoke to Henrietta, who sat pale and 
drawn in her saddle. 


112 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


For an instant Debby hesitated, then she 
went towards the girl. 

‘‘Henny,^^ she said a bit shyly, ‘^you can pick 
on any of the rest of ns, ’cause we can answer 
back, you see, but a poor old horse doesn’t 
understand. Bludgeon didn ’t know you slashed 
him 'because you couldn’t slash me. All the 
the same, perhaps I — I won’t mind if you tell 
me now you didn’t mean it. Marjorie won’t 
say anything, neither will I, but you ’ll take back 
what you said, won’t you? ” There was a kind 
of gentle pleading in her voice that surprised 
herself. 

‘‘No”; said Henrietta fiercely, “I won’t; and 
I ’ll never forgive you as long as I live ! ’ ’ 

She took out her handkerchief and broke 
into angry sobs, directing the groom, with her 
free hand, to move on. The man sprang into 
his saddle and gathered up the reins slowly, 
saluting Debby respectfully as he rode away, 
and bestowing upon Fuller, Mortimer Poole’s 
chauffeur, a deliberate wink. 

“Debby Jannison, I think you’re the bravest 
girl I ever heard of!” Marjorie Wrexham 
spoke with admiring emphasis. “Henny’s a 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


113 


pig, tliat^s all, but perhaps she ^11 have for- 
gotten all about it tomorrow. That’s what she 
does generally, when any one stands up to her. 
Oh, goody, goody; just wait till I tell the girls !” 

She danced off towards the elderly maid who 
had been waiting for her, and Debby came 
slowly towards the car beside which Mortimer 
Poole waited. Her legs trembled, she felt 
shaken all over, and it was very comforting to 
get into the motor car and be fussed over by 
her adoring uncle. But presently, as they 
neared their home, she turned to him with a 
little shame-faced grin, putting one firm brown 
hand on his arm. 

^‘No, don’t think I’m brave. Uncle Mort, I — 
I was scared to death; but there wasn’t any- 
thing to do but hold on ! ” 

The artist said nothing, but he wondered how 
many brave men, faced by danger, had not felt 
the same way. Sometimes — there was nothing 
to do but hold on ! 

‘^You know you’re going to have a dickens 
of a time with Henrietta”; he said thought- 
fully, later, as Debby poured tea for him in the 
studio. This had become one of their most 


114 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


intimate times, and Mortimer Poole frankly 
revelled in the presence of the little girl in the 
beautiful, colourful room dedicated to his work. 
He dismissed his model at about three, and took 
a walk or a drive, then, occasionally met Dehby 
as she left school, although it was usually Mrs. 
Banning ^s duty to accompany her. It was 
rather amusing to Hebby, after the freedom of 
her life at home, coming and going to school in 
a merry group of comrades and neighbours, to 
be taken such precious care of now. No girls 
of her station went to school unattended. Uncle 
Mortimer assured her. And in New York City, 
where strange things happened, it was just as 
well to be careful. When she was a young lady 
the thing would be a little different. 

Debby filled the fragile cup she held and set it 
down on the little stand before Uncle Mortimer 
before she replied. She was really terribly 
worried, and she would have given worlds to 
have talked the matter over with Mumsy, who 
would have known exactly what to do, having 
faced all the difficulties of school at Miss 
Tence’s herself. But even if she could have 
discussed the situation with Uncle Mort, he 


DEBBY’S YEAE 115 

would not have understood. He had never 
been a girl — at a girls’ school. He didn’t 
realize how dreadful it was going to be if 
Henny failed to do as she had asked her. 
Henny had to apologize, however casually, to 
this representative of the Jannison family. 
Hebby felt they had all been insulted, and 
she had to stand up for her own. She 
couldn’t just ‘det Henny forget.” She had 
given her a chance, for when she had rooked 
to and fro at the horse’s head, it had come to 
her that she had been merely wildly angry with 
Henrietta, and insulted beyond measure. But 
that chance Henny had refused to take, and — 
Hebby wanted justice. Just a whisper would 
make peace again, no one else need ever know 
that Henny had eaten humble pie; Hebby was 
generous, she would insist on nothing else, but 
— that whisper she must have ! And — she had 
more than half a suspicion that she would not 
get it ! 

So now she stopped before her uncle’s chair 
and answered him seriously. 

^^Yes, Uncle Mort, perhaps; but you never 
can tell with Henny, she’s so changeable.” 


116 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


After all, she reflected, there was no more 
school until Monday, and over Sunday she 
might think of some way of handling the situa- 
tion. And of course she couldn’t tell Uncle 
Mort how worried -she was, because she simply 
had to be cheerful when he was there. That 
was what she had come to live with him for. 
Debby smiled to herself as she remembered 
that, for she really believed that he was about 
as cheerful as anybody could be. He had 
moods, of course, every man had those, and she 
supposed that when a man was an artist it was 
worse than when he was just an ordinary man, 
but taken all in all, he was considerably cheered, 
she thought. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Debby love, there is one thing I wanted 
to speak to you about”; said Mortimer Poole 
a little later, pausing with his hand on the knob 
of the door as he dismissed her to her school- 
room dinner. When he had guests at night or 
was dining out, Debby ’s dinner was served to 
her in the old schoolroom that had been her 
mother’s and uncle’s before her. ^‘When we 
came home this afternoon, didn’t you wave 
your hand to the policeman on the crossing?” 


DEBBY^S YEAB 


117 


^‘Yes, Uncle, to Michael Clancy I’’ said Debby 
eagerly; ^‘when I walk home with Tootie — I 
mean Mrs. Banning,^’ she corrected herself in 
some confusion; always chat with him for 
a minute. He^s the nicest man — her 
enthusiasm rose — ^‘and he has six children of 
his own; little Kathleen’s about my size, he 
says. So of course he just naturally likes 
girls — ” 

Mortimer Poole frowned. 

‘‘I see,” he said hastily, ‘‘you did not under- 
stand, of course, but really, Debby, it is entirely 
unnecessary to do more than be civil to the 
man. Why become familiar — wave your hand 
and so on? The person is not in your class, 
my dear, and he will not understand it. In the 
future, Debby, I should prefer that you and 
Mrs. Banning take the other road, until this — 
this policeman — ” there was delicate irony in 
the tone in which he spoke — “has forgotten 
you. I am not blaming you, my dear”; he 
added more gently, “you did not stop to think, 
that is all.” 

Debby, without reply, went on towards the 
schoolroom. She was in a hot rage. Why, 


118 DEBBY’S YEAE 

Uncle Mort was no different from Henrietta 
Van Marten, who had not considered her, Dehhy 
Jannison, good enough to treat as an equal! 
Mumsy had never taught her things like that, 
she had said always that to every one, rich and 
poor, gentle and simple, her children must be 
polite and courteous and — and friendly if oc- 
casion arose. And Michael Clancy had been so 
Tiindj the traffic was terrible there sometimes, 
and he had never forgotten them, never once. 
Why, of course Debby had to thank him, and 
one thing led to another, and now she always in- 
quired for Kathleen and Biddy and Mike and 
all the rest. Why, it was almost as if she knew 
them! What possible harm could there be in 
iU 

‘WouM think, she told herself viciously as 
she attacked her chicken, ^Hhat Mumsy didn^t 
know as well as Uncle Mort, and they were 
brought up together in the same place, even. 
Oh, I wish I could see Mumsy !’^ and with a 
sudden wail the little dark head was down upon 
the tablecloth, her dinner was forgotten, and 
Banning, seeing from the doorway as he 


DEBBY^S YEAR 119 

entered with a special dish, just how things 
were, tip-toed out again to fetch his wife. 

^‘Oh, Tootie!^’ cried Debby as the com- 
fortable, friendly face of Mrs. Banning ap- 
peared before her, ‘‘oh, Tootie!^^ and she hid 
her face on the good woman’s shoulder, her 
slender frame shaking with sobs. But she said 
nothing of what was troubling her, and not by 
any amount of questioning could Mrs. Ban- 
ning discover the cause for this unprecedented 
outburst. 

“There, there, my lamb!” she said “you just 
sit quiet and let Tootie wash your poor eyes, 
and then she’ll feed you, honey, like as if you 
was a baby. You want something substantial 
in that little tummy of yours — ” Tootie be- 
lieved that most ills could be helped, if not 
cured, by the aid of food! — “and you’ll feel 
just as if nothing had happened. I ’ll tell Ban- 
ning to bring up some more chicken, hot from 
the oven, and there is cream gravy and cauli- 
flower — ” her words subsided into a low mur- 
mur, and under her ministrations Debby did 
feel better, indeed, and as if it had all been a 


120 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


storm in a teacup. But beneatli her brighter 
exterior she hid a heavy little heart, for the 
thought of Henrietta was present with her all 
the time. 

Long after Debby was in bed, Mrs. Banning 
sat talking over the situation with her husband, 
the white head and the grey one very close to- 
gether. Both old faces were concerned, both 
eyes shining with the indomitable determina- 
tion to fight Debby ^s battle for her, whatever it 
might be. 

^‘Her that’s always so merry and bright, 
breaking down and crying like any ordinary 
child”; said Mrs. Banning for the fifth time. 
‘‘Was there any difference in Mr. Mortimer, 
Banning, as you could see when he went out to 
dinner?” 

“Not a trace,” said Banning thoughtfully, 
“and Trevor says he was in rare good humour 
when he was getting dressed, too.” Trevor, 
being Mortimer Poole’s valet, had excellent 
reasons for knowing his master’s state of mind. 
“I guess she was all shook up and frightened 
holding on to they bosses this a’ternoon, and 
she had to get it out of her system, like.” 


DEBBY^S YEAR 121 

For the chauffeur had brought back the story 
of Debby^s adventure. 

‘^Nothing of the kind, and don’t you believe 
it!” said the old lady with a sniff. ‘‘Miss 
Debby’s made of better stuff than that, she 
wouldn’t give way on something as she’d done 
like that. I know children, and I reckon I know 
a bit about Miss Helen’s daughter, anyhow, and 
I say as her feelings was hurt, that’s what it 
was. Men is so clumsy!” She cast a wither- 
ing glance at her spouse, a look he responded 
to with a smile of appreciation at her discern- 
ment, and in a softer tone she continued: 
“What time does Mr. Mortimer come home to- 
night, d ’ye know 1 ’ ’ 

“He said he’d be late, Susanna, not to wait 
up for him.” 

“He didn’t tell me not to wait, did he?” 
Mrs. Banning snapped, and her eyes shone with 
delight. “What that darling child wants is a 
talk with her mother. Banning, and that — or 
my name ain’t what it is! — is what she’s a- 
going to have. Now, you go to bed all nice and 
peaceful, and I’ll wait in your pantry until I 
hear the master’s step, and then out I steps 


122 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


and tells Mm as it would be a good plan to let 
Miss Debby go home for Sunday. Land sakes, 
does he think he^s a mother and ’ll take the 
place of one? Then he’s got another think 
coming, I guess! He’ll hate it, but he’ll do 
what I say, you see if he don’t. Only — ” 
restored to her usual excellent humour now that 
her plan was matured and she had found the 
solution of Debby ’s trouble, as she felt — ‘‘he’ll 
give no credit for the plan to any but hisself, 
in course, being a man and a poor frail creature 
at best ! Y ou know them. Banning ! ’ ’ And she 
passed a plump, loving hand over the old 
man’s head. 

So — coming into his home in the early hours 
of the morning, Mortimer Poole was surprised 
to see confronting him the buxom, stately 
figure of Mrs. Banning. She wore her best 
black silk, and a cashmere shawl around her 
capacious shoulders, and at her bosom was the 
big cameo he had brought her from Italy. Like 
other women, Mrs. Banning felt at her best 
when supported by good clothes. Now she ap- 
proached the artist with that mixture of 


DEBBY^S YEAR 123 

timidity and respectful determination before 
which the best of men go down. 

^‘Debby?’^ he said quickly. 

^^She^s all right sir, it isn’t that. But I 
wanted to see you, Mr. Mortimer, when no one 
else was around. Probably you have thought 
of it yourself, sir, and made arangements for 
Sunday like as not — oh, wily Mrs. Banning, 
not for nothing have you been married for 
forty years ! — ^‘but wouldn’t it be a good thing 
to send Miss Debby over early Sunday morning 
to see her mother, sir? She’s been with you 
now for six weeks, and I’m sure a more devoted 
child to her uncle I never did see ! But I think 
Miss Helen, sir — she’s that to me, though she’s 
been married and gone for years and has chil- 
dren of her own — ought to get a glimpse of Miss 
Debby by now, don’t you?” 

Innocently, the faded old eyes met his, and 
Mortimer Poole felt himself thinking as the old 
lady had planned he should. It was a shame, 
of course, Helen ought to see Debby once in a 
while! And he was secure in the child’s devo- 
tion, she would not want to stay in New Jersey, 


124 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


lie felt sure of that! His voice was very 
pleasant when he replied to Mrs. Banning, and 
the arrangments were made then and there. 

‘^You’ll like a quiet day all to yourself, sir, 
on Sunday,’’ said Mrs. Banning as she bade 
him goodnight, thus making sure that Mortimer 
Poole would not accompany his niece. The 
poor lamb should have one day with her family 
if Tootie could manage it ! 


CHAPTER IX 


Nevee, never, never, had she known how 
heavenly it was at home! Debby told herself. 

She had arrived that Sunday morning before 
breakfast was over, having coaxed the chauf- 
feur to start almost before daylight, and crept 
downstairs with Tootie’s help, shoes in hand, 
so that she should not disturb Uncle Mortimer. 
He had told her at luncheon on Saturday — 
when they met for the first time that day, for 
Uncle Mort had one of his bursts of working 
fever, and had not appeared before — that he 
had decided she ought to go and see her mother, 
and but for the warning Mrs. Banning had 
given her, she would have shewn the exuberant 
delight she felt in the prospect of going home. 
As it was, however, she thanked her uncle de- 
murely enough, and went on eating what was 
on her plate. Had it been leather and saw- 
dust, however, she would not have known the 
difference for a minute. Until this moment she 
had not dared to count on really going. 

125 


126 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


Mumsy had told her that she had better not 
write to her or even telephone, except in real 
necessity. Uncle Mortimer wond be kind and 
after a time she would do both things now and 
again, and come home too on little visits, but 
for a time she had better just set her mind to 
growing accustomed to her new life. So that, 
except for a brief note of thanks to her brother 
and Debby jointly for their lovely presents, 
Mrs. Jannison had not even written to her 
daughter. When Debby danced in, that Sun- 
day morning, she had grown pale for an in- 
stant and clutched at the tablecloth. Her 
beautiful Debby — to have her back! 

She had brought with her a great box of 
candy, made by Mrs. Banning with fierce en- 
thusiasm on the day before ; and she had 
another package, one at which she laughed a 
little, and held onto with all her strength until 
the two boys wrested it away from her. 

‘‘It isn^t much^^; she cried in an agony as 
the boys tore off the paper and disclosed a large 
cardboard box; “Mumsy, make them stop! 
Oh, they 11 spoil everything if they open it be- 
fore I can explain,’^ 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


127 


Something in her voice made even Harold- 
William pause, and Mrs. Jannison obtained 
control of the box, holding it firmly until Debby 
could get to her side. ‘‘You see,’^ she said, 
her blue eyes shining happily on them all, “I 
haven ^t really very much that is my very own, 
though there are so many things that I have. 
And I so wanted to bring you all something 
when I came — and I didn’t know when it would 
be, I was as surprised as anything when Uncle 
Mort said I could come today, I didn’t expect to 
be able to come so soon — not that it is soon!” — 
she gave her mother a convulsive hug — “and 
I haven’t got as much as I meant to have. But 
anyway, it is all my own and I’ve saved it for 
you ! Choose what you like, every one. I wish 
it was more!” she added again, regretfully. 

With a whoop Bill — it was absurd to call 
him Harold-William every time, just as if she 
were a stranger, Debby said — ^was upon the box 
and had wrenched off the cover. Helen and 
Peggy peered over Cecilia’s head, and it was 
Silly’s little hand that brought forth from the 
box a package of confetti tied with a gay rib- 
bon. Then Bill found a wooden whistle with 


128 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


a painted duck on it, and Paignton, who was 
not above curiosity on Sundays, and behaved 
like a little boy sometimes, Mumsy said, dis- 
covered a pocket knife for which Bill imme- 
diately began to barter. Helen caught at a 
cherry-coloured ribbon and Peggy found a pen, 
ready filled with ink. There were lots of other 
things in the box, bits of ribbon, lots of boxes 
of candy that had not been touched. 

‘‘Sometimes I have to open them to be po- 
lite,’’ Debby explained, “but I always keep 
them when I can, I started saving the minute 
I found how many things were given 
to me. You see, we hardly ever go any- 
where that Uncle Mort doesn’t get me some- 
thing — ” her tone became almost apologetic, 
“and his friends bring things to the studio 
for me, or sometimes we have parties at school 
with favours — there are so many things that 
come like that. Oh, Silly darling, I so wanted 
to bring you a dress, and I have so many hair 
ribbons that it would make you dizzy, but I 
thought I ought not to take those. It would 
just mean that Uncle Mort had to buy me more, 
and oh, Mumsy, he spends so much — ” and her 



“I should think you’d be the happiest girl in the 
world ! ’ ’ 


r 


I 


r 


I 


4 


<■» \ 
I 


1 


I 


» 


- « i 


I 


4 




DEBBY^S YEAE 


129 


eyes, round with disapproval of his recklessness 
— fastened on her mother as she told the his- 
tory of some shopping expeditions. 

‘‘Debby, I should think you’d be the hap- 
piest girl in the world!” said Silly, her little 
face alight with curiosity and awe. She hov- 
ered about Debby as if she could not bear her 
out of her sight, and Mrs. Jannison sighed as 
she listened. Debby was unspoiled yet, that 
was true, but only six weeks had gone by. Grive 
her six months, and by that time the habit of 
luxury would be hers, probably. This home 
that was so shabby and so dear to them all, 
would appear in its true light to Debby then. 
It would be a miracle if that did not happen, 
anyway. Why, it was a wonder the child’s 
head was not turned already. 

And yet, and yet — the girl ought to have her 
chance! The beauty of the old life was what 
her mother had wished to give her. Perhaps 
she was getting that. Mrs. Jannison breathed 
a swift little prayer that Debby might not be 
spoiled, might not snatch at the shadow and 
lose the substance in this new life. 

There was a shadow over Debby ’s gaiety. 


130 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


she felt. Something was troubling the child; 
when Sallie Thatcher and some of the other 
neighbour children had been in to say ‘‘hello’’ 
to their old chum, she made an excuse and took 
the little girl upstairs to her own room for a 
quiet chat. If she could speak about it she 
would tell her mother, Mrs. Jannison knew. 

So — she listened quietly enough to the recital 
of the scene with Henrietta Van Marten, and 
her mind went back twenty years to the time 
Horace Van Martin — Henrietta’s father now — 
had wanted her to marry him. Strange, that 
their children should be fighting! She won- 
dered idly for a fleeting instant, what sort of a 
woman he had finally married. 

But as she listened, all the fighting blood of 
the Jannisons rose in her. She gloried in the 
fact that Hebby had set out to subdue this 
haughty girl, even though she knew that it 
meant hardship for her little daughter, for she 
did not minimize the fact that Henrietta, simply 
because of birth and having been so long in the 
school, had much the best of it as a starting 
point. Then, suddenly, as the memory of 
Hebby ’s rush for the horse came to her, her lips 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


131 


whitened. ‘‘Debby,^^ she said, ‘‘promise me 
that you will never again do a foolhardy thing 
like that? Why, you might have been crushed 
to death 

“Mumsy,’V said Debby comfortably, laugh- 
ing the laugh that was between a sleepy chuckle 
and a giggle, “I can^t promise that, and you 
know why; you^d do exactly that sort of thing 
if you saw a dumb animal being misused. I 
didn^t stop to think — shouldn’t have done it 
if I had ! Darling, can^t you tell me what to do 
about Henny?’’ 

“What is likely to happen said Mrs. 
Jannison. 

But she knew very well. Henrietta would 
make an open break with Debby. Half — more, 
probably, because they would have Henrietta’s 
version of the affair — of the girls in class 3B 
would be on Henny’s side. There would be 
petty annoyances for Debby all the time, things 
too small to complain about, but calculated to 
wear the cliild out. Then — if Henrietta’s 
malice went so far, though Mrs. Jannison hoped 
it did not — there would come a day when Debby 
would find herself surrounded by a crowd of 


132 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


enemies, led by Henny, and the smaller girl 
would be brow-beaten into submission. It 
would be some absurd thing, very likely, that 
Henrietta would make her do, for they were all 
children, really ; but it would be enough to dis- 
grace her in the eyes of the girls of her class, 
and it might be years before she would regain 
the prestige thus lost. In her impotence to help 
Mrs. Jannison could have cried, but as always 
when she was in a difficulty, she sat very still, 
waiting. Somehow, she knew the right thing 
would come to her to say, the right thought to 
give Debby. So, with her beautiful tired eyes 
closed, she sat holding her child in her arms, 
silent. It was not exactly a prayer she had 
breathed into the quiet of that moment ; that is, 
it was not phrased in accurate language; but 
nevertheless, Helen Jannison got her answer, 
and very cheerfully and practically she began 
to explain to Debby. 

‘‘Darling,^’ she said, ‘‘have you forgotten 
what I have always told you about any difficulty 
you are inT’ 

Debby snuggled nearer. “Tell me again. 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


133 


Mumsy/^ she said, — it is so comforting to 

hear you say it alV^ 

Helen Jannison began to talk quietly: 

There is just one thing I can say to you, 
Debby. You know as well as I do that Hen- 
rietta is utterly powerless to hurt you if you ask 
God^s help. Vve never preached to any of 
you, my Debby, I haven’t taken you to church 
as often as I should, perhaps, but I — ” she 
caught her breath a little — shouldn’t have 
been able to go on, sometimes, unless I’d had 
help, myself, and I wanted you to be sure you 
could always get it, too; each one of you.” 

She waited a minute, waiting for the right 
words, and they came after a while, so that she 
could make the subject very vivid to the girl in 
her arms. 

‘‘You know the telephone downstairs in the 
hall? You want to call your father in the 
laboratory, sometime, and you take off the 
receiver and that connects you with central, 
doesn’t it? Well, this thing I am trying to tell 
you is just the same, only more wonderful. 
You are in trouble, you don’t know what to do 


134 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


about Henrietta — there is no one you can ask! 
So you go and sit by yourself for a few minutes 
in your own little room and keep very still. 
When you are quite peaceful and in harmony 
you can talk in your mind — out loud, if it helps 
you more — and ask for guidance. After a bit 
you will feel helped, darling, though you won’t 
know why, and then you must not forget to be 
thankful to God, and it is a good plan to say so, 
before you leave your room. After that, you 
don’t need to be anxious, because when the need 
arises the right thing will occur to you. You 
see, you are connected with Central, the great 
Central of the universe, God!” 

There was a moment of silence, and then 
Debby asked a question. 

^‘But Mumsy,” she said, ‘‘when I want help 
I may be at school and far away from any quiet 
place, then what shall I do?” 

Mrs. Jannison laughed. 

‘ ‘ Honey, how do you think I manage, with all 
the problems that come to me every day? I 
can’t be running up here all the time, how 
would the work get done ? There isn ’t any need 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


135 


of always being alone, you can use this tele* 
phone I Ve been telling you about at any time, 
if you only know how. That is why you should 
practise it first in some quiet place. Find 
out how it works, Debby; youVe been forget- 
ting about prayer, I think ; you can T even tele- 
phone downstairs in the hall unless you know 
how. Do you remember Trixie Powers? 
She’d never used a telephone before when she 
came here, and she shouted so loud into the 
receiver that she almost made poor central 
deaf! Well, you don’t want to do anything 
like that, my dearie. Just be quiet and sure 
that you are connected with the great Power 
House; that’s the secret.” 

‘‘Sounds nice!” said Debby. She snuggled 
once more into her mother’s embrace, and 
imparted a great secret. “Mumsy, do you 
know, I think Uncle Mort’s heaps cheerfuller 
since I went to stay with him. He laughs and is 
so gay. I’m glad!” 

“Of course, honey; so am I!” said Mrs. Jan- 
nison happily; “don’t overdo it, though!” 

But the admonition fell on deaf ears. “How 


136 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


could IT’ said Debby, opening her eyes wide, 
‘‘he wants to be cheerful, doesn’t he? Isn’t it 
good for him?” 

A sudden yell from downstairs prevented 
any answer. Debby rose precipitately, rush- 
ing from the room. There was a sudden scram- 
ble down the stairs, and then Debby landed as 
of old upon the floor. The treacherous rug had 
given way. 

But it didn’t take her an instant to be up 
again and in her father’s arms. “Oh, Daddy 
just to think that you came home to dinner 
when you did not even know I was here. Oh, 
isn’t it scrumptious? Daddy, did you smell 
me out, or something? Why, I don’t ever 
remember when you got back for dinner on 
Sunday before.” 

Paignton Jannison, Senior, blinked a little in 
his surprise, his deep-set black eyes filmed with 
a sudden mist. “Debby, this is splendid!” he 
cried, “why, who would have thought of seeing 
you! Daughter, Mr. Debison is going to dine 
with us. I think you remember your namesake. 
Jack?” 

He turned to the tall, spare man who had 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


137 


been an interested spectator of the little scene, 
and Debby held out her hand. 

the little brown one you gave a hundred 
dollars to,^^ she explained frankly; ‘4t caused 
me a heap of trouble, Mr. Debison, but I guess 
you meant all right. 

The great man roared with laughter. 

In the background Peggy whispered to 
Paignton that he seemed quite human, after all. 
‘^But isnT Debby awful P' she questioned, 
‘^she always did say the most appalling things 
when she got started, and I guess she^s no 
better. Call her off. Pay, while I go and talk 
to Mr. Debison myself. I want his advice about 
my education ; it should be invaluable, and this 
is the first chance I ever had to really talk with 
him.^^ 

But Mr. Debison, apparently, found Debby 
delightful. He said to Mr. Jannison that he 
did not remember a daughter of such person- 
ality, and overhearing him, Debby disclaimed 
the possession of any such thing. 

‘Ht isnT personality,’^ she said bt^ightly, 
‘4t’s clothes. I am very fortunate, in a way, 
because Madame Louison designs everything 


138 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


for me herself. It makes me look different, 
you see. When I wore brown and those specta- 
cles you never noticed me. ’ ’ 

^‘Debby!^^ said Helen, scandalized. 

She was waiting, like Peggy, for a word with 
the great man. It had long been their ambition 
to speak with him about their 'fishes with 
regard to education. Not that they really 
would have altered their plans from advice that 
he would have given them — for Debison notori- 
ously disbelieved in the higher education of 
women — ^but they wanted to talk about it at 
school. 

‘‘But it^s true, Helen said Debby calmly. 

“You’d better come out of that, miss,” said 
Paignton in a whisper that he fondly believed 
to be toneless, “the other girls will skin you if 
you don’t! Mumsy’s in the kitchen making 
brown gravy — ” 

As Debby excused herself he made a face of 
superiority in Peggy’s direction. “Don’t say 
I never do anything for you”; he said, “Debby 
and Cecilia always help with the gravy, had you 
forgotten that?” And he left them with the 
resigned inventor. 


CHAPTER X 


Ui^CLE Mortimeb was out when Debby reached 
the big house on Seventy Second Street after 
her visit to her home, and it was a very excited, 
curious Mrs. Banning who met the little girl in 
the hallway. Had she not arranged this visit 
home for Debby, herself ? All day her thoughts 
had flown, at intervals, to interested conjecture 
about what the child was doing. 

‘‘Tootie,^^ Debby cried, ‘HVe had the most 
heavenly day — ’’ and her blue eyes shone as 
she began excitedly to talk about it. 

^Hfll come up to your room, Miss Debby, my 
dear, and we can have a cosy chat^^; Mrs. Ban- 
ning supplemented when the little girl paused 
for breath, but instantly, she sensed that this 
was not quite what the child wanted. With the 
delicate instinct that had always distinguished 
her, the old lady felt that even with her pres- 
ence, the sitting room that was hers alone 
would seem rather silent after the bustling 

139 


140 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


hours of the life in the crowded, shabby little 
house in New Jersey. 

So she quickly supplemented, ‘^unless you 
would pardon the liberty of me suggesting it. 
Miss Debby, and come down to our sitting 
room? Our niece and nephew from Danbury, 
Connecticut; came to visit us, he^s a sailor in 
the navy, and she^s a friendly little soul, and 
neat as a pin. Would you care to come, my 
lamb?^’ 

At once the rose flushed in Debby ’s cheeks, 
and her eyes shone. She loved the old-fash- 
ioned sitting room where the Bannings had 
spent so much of their leisure for years. It 
had a spicy smell from the little cakes Tootie 
made and kept in a tin on the sideboard, and 
Banning always smoked a pipe here when his 
duties were done. Not two things matched in 
the whole room, but it had a pleasant, ‘ ^ homey 
air nevertheless. Debby was quite excited at 
the thought of meeting the niece and nephew, 
too. They hadnT been married long — ^she’d 
heard Tootie talk about it. They had a cute 
little house with a garden in the back and 
flowers everywhere. If she had been allowed 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


141 


to choose, she couldn^t have thought of any- 
thing more pleasant to end this delightful day. 

Tootie had filled some little dishes with home- 
made candy, and there were some of the spicy 
cakes out too. The table was still set for the 
meal that had been finished more than an hour 
ago, because the little maid who waited on the 
Bannings was having her Sunday off and 
Tootie had not wanted to disturb her company 
by working around the table. Debby suddenly 
felt hungry for the first time today, and when 
Mrs. Banning suggested that perhaps a glass 
of milk might not be amiss after her ride, she 
assented shyly. It was awfully good to be 
fussed over and made much of by these simple, 
kindly people. 

Presently, her burdens lifted, she went away 
to bed. Tootie would have come as usual to 
help her, but she would not let her leave her 
guests. Also, there was that little matter of 
Henny^s to be settled, and she wanted to 
telephone^ as she put it to herself, before she 
went to sleep. Of course, nothing might 
happen, Henrietta might come and apologize 
the first thing in the morning, and the whole un- 


142 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


pleasant incident wonld be closed. But — if she 
didn’t it was just as well to be prepared. 
Debby thought she would try Mumsy’s plan. 
It was funny how she ’d forgotten all about that. 

It was quite late when at last she climbed 
into bed and drew the luxurious covers up 
about her face. Somehow, she felt comforted, 
and as if everything would come right. Her 
childish faith in what her mother had told her 
had made her feel as if she were talking to a 
Friend. She forgot all her anxiety about 
Henny, and dropped asleep smiling as she 
thought how much she would have to tell Little- 
Bit in the morning. 

But — ^it was not at all as she had planned. 
Little-Bit had a great deal to tell her. Some 
one had met Marjorie Wrexham out walking 
the previous afternoon, and the story of what 
she had called Debby ’s heroism” had leaked 
out. Marjorie had told it, indeed, with a great 
deal of enthusiasm, and it seemed that Miss 
Tence had come to hear of it and had called up 
Mr. Poole on the telephone, and Uncle Morti- 
mer, with his usual straightforwardness, had 
told the details exactly as they had occurred. 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


143 


When Debby reached school she was sent for by 
Miss Tence, and stood waiting for her in the 
little room where she had first met Little-Bit. 

This was the first time that she had come in 
personal contact with the principal of the school 
since that morning when she had come with 
Uncle Mortimer, but during the time between 
her admiration for the woman every girl who 
ever came in touch with her adored, had grown 
until it was something like worship. She was 
not afraid, for she had done nothing to be 
ashamed of, and Little-Bit had told her the 
news while she had taken otf her wraps, but 
she was rather apprehensive. Would Miss 
Tence make her tell what she had said to 
Henny? She hoped not! Mumsy had given 
all her family a horror of tale-bearing. 

However, her interview with Miss Tence was 
brief. That lady simply stated, as she smiled 
down at the little girl who had shown herself 
able to stand up to overbearing Henrietta Van 
Marten — Miss Tence was in no error as to the 
girLs number, and she had no real liking for 
her! — that she was proud of Debby and of her 
courage. Henrietta would be in shortly, she 


144 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


stated, and would make her peace with Debby 
in her own way. 

‘‘I am going to leave you two girls together 
for a little chat,^^ said Miss Tence with a 
smile, think that will be best, don’t you, 
Debby I But — ” here the beautiful, keen eyes 
searched the little girl’s face — ‘‘though I know 
you cannot tell tales, my dear, whatever 
happens, and I hope I shall never ask any girl 
under my care to do that, for of all things,” 
declared Miss Tence with energy, “I hate a 
tale-bearer; yet if Henrietta is not perfectly 
fair and square I hope you will not make peace 
with her. You have shown yourself so 
courageous in this affair, Debby, from begin- 
ning to end, that I should be very sorry if you 
gave in now for the sake of peace. You won’t, 
will you I You see, Henrietta needs a lesson.” 

She did not add that she thought she had 
already had it; for the telephone conversation 
with Mortimer Poole was not the only one Miss 
Tence had had over the week-end; there had 
been another, quite as energetic, with Horace 
Van Marten, and that gentleman, aroused for 
once from his languor, had insisted on bringing 


DBBBY^S YEAE 


145 


Henrietta to the telephone and making her talk 
to Miss Tence. From sulky, smouldering rage 
Henrietta had been reduced to tears. Miss 
Tence thought to herself with a smile as she 
left the room, that Henrietta had been perfectly 
convinced that the daughter of a distinguished 
scientist and the niece of a famous artist, was 
of a family good enough to mingle even with 
the Van Martens. 

Outside her door she found Henrietta herself. 
The girl was white and shaking, her lips 
trembled. She raised her eyes to Miss Tence ’s 
that were swollen with crying, and the principal 
could hardly resist taking the poor child in her 
arms and trying to comfort her. But — with a 
nature like Henrietta's this would have been a 
fatal error, so she made her voice uncom- 
promisingly stern as she said : 

‘‘Hebby is in the little study here, waiting to 
receive your apology, Henrietta. Go in im- 
mediately, please, my dear, and don’t let there 
be any nonsense.” 

Debby, however, had not learnt wisdom from 
contact with generations of school girls. Miss 
Tence had been brought up in a professional 


146 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


atmosphere, her grandmother had first opened 
this school, and she had inherited knowledge as 
well as acquiring it. But Dehby, at the first 
glance at Henrietta’s pale face and trembling 
lips, had run forward and seized her school- 
mate by the hands, drawing her down to the 
big divan. 

‘^Oh, poor Henny, poor old Henny!” she 
had cried, in her eyes tears of the most ex- 
quisite sympathy. 

Gulping, Henny had spoken words very 
different from those she had planned. 

“Oh, Hebby, I was a cat! I think I always 
shall be, as long as I live; I don’t know what 
gets into me!” And her tears had started 
anew. 

“Henny, you dear old thing!” said Hebby, 
and wiped away the tears that fell so thick and 
fast from Henrietta’s eyes, flourishing her tiny 
embroidered handkerchief with a great air of 
being busy. “I’ll get some water,” she said, 
“and let us bathe your poor eyes. And as for 
being mad at you, Henny, I wasn’t, only I was 
afraid. If I had given in to you I thought I 
should always have to. But after I had been 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


147 


hanging onto the head of your horse, I wasn^t 
mad a bit. All that seemed to go out of me, 
somehow. You see,^^ she added simply, 
thought I was going to be killed. And I felt 
sorry you ^d never know how I admired you. ’ ’ 

Henrietta shuddered. ^‘Debby, I thought 
you would be killed, too ’ ’ ; she whispered, ^ ‘ and 
then, before I knew what I was saying I heard 
my voice speaking like that — 

Debby laughed. ^^Well, it’s all over, Henny, 
and I am just as much alive as I can he! I had 
a glorious day yesterday, too, I went home, you 
know, to New Jersey. It — it wouldn’t seem 
much of a place to you, of course, but you 
should see my sisters, they’re as clever as they 
can be. We haven’t any one as clever in this 
school, I am sure.” 

^‘Are they as pretty as you!” Henny asked 
shyly. 

‘ ‘ Pretty ? I not pretty ! ’ ’ said Debby with 
such unconscious matter-of-factness that Hen- 
rietta could only stare at her, amazed. It was 
evident that Debby did not realize that she was 
good to look at. 

^^You should see Cecilia, tnough,” she went 


148 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


on eagerly, ^ ‘ she is a beauty ; though of course 
she^s not clever like Helen and Peggy, she 
added mournfully, ‘ ‘ she ^s rather silly, in a way, 
even if she is a dear! We call her Silly, you 
know, it is short for Cecilia. We don’t have 
time for very long names in our family, every- 
thing’s always in such a rush!” 

‘‘Well,” said Henny generously, “I think it 
must be the nicest family, anyway, Debby, if 
any of the rest are at all like you. But as for 
your not being pretty, haven’t you ever looked 
in a mirror? Why, every one in Class 3B 
thinks you are just as darling as you can be! 
To look at, I mean!” 

“Do they really, Henny?” said Debby, flush- 
ing with delight, “how splendid of you to tell 
me.” 

Later, talking with Little-Bit in her room at 
the noon recess — ^luncheon was over, and the 
girls always had half-an-hour of liberty 
following it — Debby repeated what Henrietta 
had said. “Little-Bit, you — you don’t think 
I ’m pretty, do you ? ’ ’ 

“Of course I do!” said Little-Bit, throwing 
herself upon Debb^ in a whirl of atf ection, ‘ ‘ of 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


149 


course I do; you^re one of the prettiest girls in 
the school, Debby, and why you shouldn ^t know 
it I can’t see. Didn’t they ever tell you at 
home?” she asked curiously. 

^^No”; a sudden peal of laughter came from 
the girl as she replied, and she crossed to the 
mirror and studied her reflection with amuse- 
ment. ^‘You should have seen me, Little-Bit, 
when I wore a brown dress and spectacles,” she 
said, ‘‘of course they didn’t tell me at home! 
And besides, I don’t think it’s true, now, it is 
just Madame Louison’s clothes; they — they sort 
of cast a spell over me! You see. Uncle would 
know, because he’s an artist. Just wait until 
he sees you, little-Bit, he’ll rave over your 
hair, I’m sure. I don’t know why,” she added 
to herself, perfectly unconscious of saying any- 
thing untactful, “but artists seem to worship 
hair that’s red! I hear them talk when they 
come to the studio!! Why, we had a girl with 
red hair at school when I lived at home, and 
every one called her carrots and copper-knob ! 
She — she used to cry about it! But she felt 
lots better yesterday, — she came to see me with 
Sallie Thatcher and the bunch— when I told her 


150 DEBBY^S YEAR 

about the artists who came to Uncle’s studio.” 
She turned towards Little-Bit with a smiling 
face, ^‘your hair isn’t like hers, though,” she 
assured her, truly think yours is beautiful, 
myself. ’ ’ 

^‘Well — !” said Little-Bit, somewhat com- 
forted. 

She rose like a little bird and crossed the 
room in the daintiest way imaginable, spread 
her skirts fan-like around her, and sank down 
onto a stool at Lobby’s feet. She loved to sit 
like this, and Miss Tence kept a small hassock 
in her sitting room that was solely for Little- 
Bit’s use. There, her small body erect as a 
Turkish idol, she would sit crossed-legged for 
hours, reading and silent while Miss Tence 
worked. She had always been very self- 
sufficient, and it had come, perhaps, from 
having been so much with older people. Or 
possibly, like her father, Little-Bit had in- 
herited a desire for solitude. Now, as she sat 
down beside Lobby her eyes sought the copy of 
Mortimer Poole’s picture ‘^The Forgotten 
Lesert ’ ’ ; and her eyes grew dreamy. 

should like to meet your uncle,” she said, 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


151 


‘^he seems almost like a friend by now, Vve had 
his picture for so long. I bought it when I first 
came to school here, one day when I was in 
Grirondi^s with Miss Tence, because it reminded 
me so of papa. There is that same look in his 
eyes, sometimes, I can remember it still, 
though it is so long since I saw him. Debby, 
if only I could hear from him! You know, it is 
hard to be a scientist's daughter, I know that, 
but it is much worse to be an explorer’s child!” 

‘‘Well, I never had a letter from daddy in 
my life,” said Debby, “once he went away with 
Mr. Debison somewhere, and they were gone 
six weeks and Mumsy did not hear either until 
the last week, and then a telegram came asking 
for some clean collars! It never occurred to 
him to go to a store and get them ! Mumsy was 
so amused, I remember now how she laughed. 
I wish you could hear her laugh,” said Debby 
suddenly, “it is the nicest kind of noise!” 

“Did she send the collars!” Little-Bit in- 
quired with interest. 

“No, of course not! It would have taken 
three days to get to him by mail, anyhow. She 
sent him telegram to go and buy some. When 


152 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


daddy came home he thanked her, said he 

would never have thought of it but for that ! ^ ’ 

They laughed at the idea, but presently 

Little-Bit harked back to the thought of her 

own father. ‘^Papa^d know everything li}?:e 

that,’^ she said, ^‘he^s so used to getting out 

of difficulties that are simply terrible. Once — 

that was out in South Africa, some place — all 

his bearers died and he was ill of fever in a 
/ 

swamp. But he got back to civilization!’^ 
Little-Bit concluded triumphantly. ‘^He say^ 
there ’s always some way out ! ’ ’ 

Long ago Debby had seen the bundle of 
letters that Glossop Warde had written to his 
little daughter. They were Little-Bit’s 
greatest treasures, and she had shewn them to 
few. But the friendship between the two girls 
was daily getting stronger, and they had few 
secrets from each other. Somehow, what 
Little-Bit had said about her father had re- 
minded Debby of her mother’s words to her on 
the day before, the things that she had said 
when she had confided to her about Henrietta. 
It was funny, nothing had come out as she had 
thought it would! It had all been arranged 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


153 


for her before she had ‘telephoned’’ as she 
called it; for it must have been during her 
absence in New Jersey that Miss Tence had 
telephoned to Uncle Mort. Therefore, could 
her few moments alone in her room last night, 
“telephoning,” getting into communication 
with the Great Central of the universe, could 
that have made any ditference? Her mind 
went back to the time in Mumsy’s room. 
Eight after Mumsy had again told her about it, 
she had tried it once more for a second, just to 
see if it worked! It wasn’t that she doubted 
her mother, but she always wanted to experi- 
ment. Well, that had been just a second, but 
it had been before Marjorie Wrexham could 
have met any one coming from church, before 
the story could have reached Miss Tence ’s ears. 
Perhaps — after all — this thing she called 
“telephoning” had something to do with it! 
And if so, Little-Bit could try and see if she 
could not hear from her father. Distance 
didn’t make any difference, it didn’t matter to 
God where you were. He was just as close to 
you any place. 

So, without any of the halting and embar- 


154 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


rassment that usually comes when there is a 
mention of religion, she described to her friend 
the plan she had formed. ^^Let you and me 
‘telephone^ every day up here after lunch, 
Little-Bit, and see if something doesn^t hap- 
pen! Mumsy said you always get an answer, 
though it may not be exactly what you expect. 
Wouldn’t it be gorgeous if your father should 
come walking in here one day, all bronzed and 
handsome like that man in the picture Uncle 
Mort painted? He’s just as likely to as not, 
I should say. I — I should think it would be 
better if there are two of us doing it at once, 
instead of one alone, like the Bible says about 
Hwo or three gathered together,’ don’t you re- 
member? Though this isn’t exactly like pray- 
ing, somehow, is it? Mumsy says it is like talk- 
ing to a friend, and she says never to forget to 
be thankful! Well, I’m sure I am^^; said 
Debby with a great sigh of relief, ‘‘when I re- 
member how scared I was about Henny ! Didn’t 
it all work out like a charm ^ Little-Bit? And 
to think I hated to come to school this morn- 
ing — she broke off, with a bewildered sigh of 
happiness, and the bell interrupted little-Bit’s 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


155 


enthusiastic adoption of her plan. The two of 
them had to run not to be late for French! 
Mademoiselle was in an awfully cross mood 
that day ! 


CHAPTER XI 


‘‘Foe heaven sake, Debby, stop being so cheer- 
ful! 

Mortimer Poole threw down his newspaper 
and almost glared across the table at his niece. 
He had had a bad morning in the stndio ; noth- 
ing had gone as it should, and he had come 
down in the moodiest of moody moods to find 
Debby with her nsual little smile and a merry 
note in her voice as she welcomed him to 
luncheon. 

He had scarcely responded, and Banning, 
hovering tactfully about his master ^s chair, had 
reported to Mrs. Banning between times that 
the artist was in a bad mood, and made his 
blood boil, he did. 

The old man had seen the little girPs eyes 
fixed thoughtfully on her uncle, and the tiny 
frown that had come between her brows as she 
watched him. The child herself looked pale 
and languid, but she made a valiant effort to 
stir her uncle up to some show of interest, and 

156 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


157 


Mortimer Poole, trying hard to keep the rein 
on himself, had stood it as long as he could be- 
fore his outbreak. 

There was an instant of dismayed silence 
after he had spoken, and the man would have 
given the world to have the power to take his 
words back again. But this was impossible, 
of course, and he was so thoroughly out of sorts 
that all he could do was to stare at her, and 
his eyes, Debby thought, were like bumed-out 
fires. She gave a little shiver of despair. 

“But Uncle Mort, I canH!^^ 

“CanT whatU^ The question was a grunt. 
Mortimer Poole knew he was behaving like an 
uncouth boy, but he felt as if he could not pre- 
vent it. “CanT what?^’ he repeated again ir- 
ritably, as no answer was forthcoming to his 
question, “canT stop being cheerful? 

“No! You see. Uncle, that^s what I’m here 
for!’^ 

''TvuWe here to he cheerful^'' Each word 
was over-emphasized as her uncle repeated it ; 
the exaggeration pleased him, he felt as if he 
would like to get up and scream with irritation. 
“What put that idea into your head, pray?” 


158 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


^‘Mumsy did; she said you were lonely 

“Ah! so you came to cheer me up? Well, 
youVe nearly driven me distracted with your 
cheering, if that’s any satisfaction. Try being 
gloomy for a change, can’t you?” 

Was this her Uncle Mort? Debby stared at 
him in amazement. He had always been so 
charmingly polite, even when he had withdrawn 
into himself heretofore he had eventually been 
cheered by a chat with her. Debby remembered 
the day when she had been so worried about 
Henrietta, and had hidden her fears from her 
uncle ; she had found that in cheering him she 
had gained a little happiness herself. And 
now, now that it had become such a habit to be 
merry, she did not know any more how to be 
anything else. That was what she had meant 
when she had said that she couldn’t stop being 
cheerful. Why, it was ever so much easier 
to grin than to cry, she almost giggled as she 
thought how funny it was, even though it was 
so dreadful. 

But fortunately this did not happen; Uncle 
Mort, with a last exasperated glance at her, 
had stalked from the room and away upstairs 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


159 


to his studio, leaving his dessert untouched. 
Banning came in and quietly attended to 
Debhy^s wants, to find the little girl with her 
chin on her hands, staring out of the window. 
Her little face was resolutely cheerful, even 
now, and Banning thought that she looked 
very much like her mother, the ^‘Miss Helen’’ 
of his memories, as she sat thus. 

‘‘Banning,” she said soberly, lifting eyes 
that were so very troubled to his, even though 
her lips smiled, “you heard all that, of course, 
you couldn’t have helped hearing. What is 
it, what have I done? Doesn’t Uncle Mortimer 
like me any more?” 

“You bet he likes you. Miss Debby, you’re 
the apple of his eye, my dear, as you must 
know yourself. No, you ain’t done nothing. 
Missy, it’s that model of his. She don’t suit, 
and she don’t do as he wants. Why, if the 
President hisself should come to visilt him, 
when he’s in that kind of mood. Mister Morti- 
mer ’ud just as soon as not walk out on him 
and leave hiTn to hisself! You know I speak 
true, miss, though you’ve never seen him be 
quite so wild before. It’s been your presence. 


160 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


Miss Debby, that has stopped these attacks, 
to my way of thinking. You go on right as 
you are, miss, and I’m sure it’ll all come out 
right.” 

It was a long speech for Banning, and at 
the end of it the old man stood straight and 
trembling before her. Debby was touched ; she 
felt sadder than ever now, for she knew how 
Banning adored his master. Why, if Uncle 
Mort was accustomed to being as irritable as 
this, there was no chance of her helping him. 
Her heart gave a great leap, she might be able 
to go home! 

But — Mumsy couldn’t bear any of them 
to shirk. Simply because a thing was unpleas- 
ant, why should she go home? See what she 
had! When she had seen Silly she had said 
she’d give her eyes for the chance that Debby 
had! To wear beautiful things and go to such 
a school and have all the luxury that came to 
Debby by rights as the adopted daughter of 
the rich and famous artist — ^why, to little Silly 
that had seemed like paradise. ‘‘Of course she 
didn ’t know what she was talking about ’ ’ ; said 
Debby softly to herself, “but still, I have to 


DEBBY^S YEAE 161 

go on for a year, anyhow, whatever happens 
at the end of it.’’ 

The slamming of the hall door interrupted 
her thoughts. Banning hurriedly withdrew to 
the hall. Presently he came back to report that 
Mortimer Poole had gone out. 

“That’s the best thing in the world. Miss 
Debby, he’ll get all the poison out of his 
system.” 

A sudden, brilliant idea had come to Debby. 
She almost fell over herself as she thought 
about it, and the little giggle she had been keep- 
ing back escaped. Leaving Banning staring 
after her with a look of stupefaction, she ran 
from the room and up the stairs. 

Debby often spent hours in Uncle Mort’s 
studio, but it was not the same looking room 
then as that into which she turned now. When 
he was working things were strewn about in 
riotous profusion, and instead of the cleared, 
ordered spaces of beauty, she now almost fell 
onto a mass of draperies of every colour and 
texture imaginable, it seemed. 

“Here, what you doing?” said a rough voice, 
and Debby looked up with a start to find that 


162 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


the studio was alreadjy occupied. A young 
woman with a tawny mass of hair on her head 
— the kind that artists always like, Debhy 
mentally told herself again! — and a floating 
mass of chiifons of grey and crimson and or- 
ange about her supple body, stood by the 
model ^s throne. She eyed Debhy belligerently. 

‘‘Who are you?’’ she said after a minute. 

“I am Debison Jannison, Mr. Poole’s 
niece”; Debby said. She very seldom used 
her full name, because she hated it, but some- 
thing told that she did not want this young 
woman to call her Debby in front of Uncle Mor- 
timer. He might not like it! “You are Miss 
Model, aren’t you?” she went on politely. 

“It don’t exactly look like it, would you say 
so ? ” the other asked, indicating the easel with 
the canvas turned with its back to the room. 
“The Lord High Muck-a-Muck suddenly walked 
out, slapped down my money, and made a 
skiddo!” she added further. “That door’s 
got one of them locks that’s got a little busi- 
ness on the inside that if you push it over you 
can’t open it with the knob outside. When I 
came out I forgot to fix it, and His Highness 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


163 


has the keys on him, I suppose. I want my 
clothes. Can’t go home without them, can I? 
I was jnst going to bawl for help !” 

She indicated with a gesture the door to the 
dressing room. 

‘ ‘ Oh, wait a minute, please, ’ ’ Debby besought 
her. ^‘You know, it is awfully fortunate you 
are here. I — perhaps you’ll be able to tell me 
what upset my uncle? You see, it is really 
frightfully important. ’ ’ 

Upset him? Was he upset so that you’d 
notice it?" Well, I should just say so! What 
upset him, my dear, was the colour of my 
hair!” 

^^It’s — ^it’s very nice hair,” said Debby po- 
litely, ‘‘what did Uncle Mortimer want 
changed?” 

Miss Model — as Debby called her — strode 
across the room and turned the canvas on the 
easel face about. A splashing of colours, all 
of the tawny variety, shewed on it above the 
faint sketch of a woman’s head. But — even 
Debby could see that the colour he had tried 
for and the colour of Miss Model’s hair were 
not the same. In other words. Uncle Mortimer 


164 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


had not the right model. It was not the 
young lady^s fault, but of course it was very 
trying for an artist. 

^^He wanted my hair to be another colour; 
Titian, he called it. He hadnT been able to 
find anybody, and some one told him of me. 
I guess they enthused, and the poor artist 
believed ’em! He was out when I came, and 
the gentleman who let me in told me to get 
into the costume laid out. I guess your uncle 
hadn’t the heart to tell me, seeing me dressed 
and all. All morning we ’ve been wasting time 
here, and nothing done. Gee ! and I thought I ^d 
got a week of steady work, anyhow!” 

‘‘Oh!” said Debby with quick sympathy, for 
she had heard of people who could not get 
work, “what a pity. Perhaps my uncle — ” 

The model looked at her with a sudden gleam 
of pleasure. 

“Say,” she said, “you’re a nice kid! Oh, 
His Highness is a generous sort, all right, he 
paid me for a week anyhow; but I can’t make 
you understand that it was the worh I wanted. 
I haven’t been very fortunate for a bit, some- 
how. Now, listen girlie, can you get that door 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


165 


unlocked for me? I got a date, seeing as how 
I can^t work this afternoon I may as well go 
to the movies along with my steady. ’ ’ 

‘‘Of course, said Dehby, “don’t you love 
them too? I mean the movies! I don’t go 
nearly as often as I should like, hut when I 
do — ” her eyes sparkled. “I want to be a 
movie actress when I grow up,” she added. 

“Well, you could be, at that, with them 
curls!” said Miss Model. When Banning 
brought a master key and unlocked the door, 
she hurried away to dress, waving her hand 
airily to Debby when she reappeared clad in a 
neat blue suit. 

“Well, so long, girlie; be good to yourself!” 

Banning came back with a rather scandalized 
face and looked in on Debby as she sat facing 
the abandoned canvas. 

“I beg your pardon. Miss Debby, but I 
shouldn’t say nothing to the master, if I were 
you, about having seen that model. She’s a 
good, hard-working girl all right, but he might 
not like it, all the same.” 

“No; I didn’t know she was here. Banning.” 
The little girl laughed softly as the old man 


166 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


withdrew. Her idea was beginning to bear 
fruit, now she must consult Tootie. Would it 
be possible to get little-Bit here while Uncle 
was out? It had long been a promise for her 
to have her chum to spend the week-end with 
her, but one thing or another had intervened. 
Debby paused thoughtfully as she wondered if 
Little-BiUs first sight of Uncle Mort would 
be when he was not quite himself! Well, she 
must risk that! Banning thought he would 
come home again feeling different, and he had 
guests to dinner, she knew that, so he would 
have to be at home tonight. Her idea was, that 
if Little-Bit could be here she would have the 
exact shade of hair that Uncle Mortimer wished 
to paint. Debby didn^t know how she knew 
this, but she knew! The hair of Miss Model 
had been merely red, deep and beautiful, of 
course, or at least beautiful to an artist — : 
Debby herself was not exactly sure that she 
cared for any red hair except Little-Bit’s — 
but then, her hair was not merely red, it had 
golden lights in it! Sometimes it glittered to 
copper, sometimes it was the gold of ripe corn, 
and under all this shading and change, it was 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


167 


that tawny, dusky red that Uncle Mort loved. 
Dehby did not stop to think about it any more, 
but went in search of Tootie. 

Oh, yes, Mrs. Banning said with her rich, 
comfortable laugh, she thought they could man- 
age it. With her husband she went down the 
hall to the telephone room, and Banning called 
Miss Tence^s school. 

But — with calm dignity — ^it was Mrs. Ban- 
ning who stepped to the phone, explaining the 
situation to Miss Tence herself in her prim, 
gentle, discreet way. Miss Tence would cer- 
tainly understand how it was ! Miss Debby be- 
lieved that Miss Warde had hair of the colour 
needed by Mr. Poole for his next picture; he 
was making a study, now, for a huge canvas 
that had been blocked out for weeks. It was 
not perhaps the way in which Miss Warde 
should be invited to visit Miss Debby — there 
ought to be a personal invitation from Mr. 
Poole himself, but he was always glad for 
Miss Debby to have her friends — and if Miss 
Tence could possibly overlook the infor- 
mality — the old voice went on and on, mur- 
muring yes’s and no’s in well-trained accents. 


168 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


In a moment she had said good-bye and hung 
up the receiver, turning to Debby a face of 
triumph. 

^^Miss Elizabeth is to come, Miss Debby, the 
car is to go for her now. I think I had better 
ride in it, so that she cannot possibly come to 
any harm. You stay here, my lamb, and you/ll 
be on the spot if your uncle should come in. 
Idl tell Hulda to see that the blue room is 
made ready for your friend. It is right across 
the hall from yours. Or,^^ as she caught a 
shadow on Debby ’s face, would you like a 
little bed moved into your room and have her 
there 


CHAPTER XII 


Tiked and dispirited, at a late tea hour Morti- 
mer Poole let himself into the house with his 
latchkey. 

Although he did not know it, the sound 
of his arrival was the signal for a num- 
ber of stealthy movements throughout the 
house. 

Banning tip-toed down to his wife at the 
end of the hall, where she had been waiting 
in their little sitting room, and she in turn 
mounted the backstairs with surprising swift- 
ness for one of her age and girth, to the studio 
floor, acquainting Debby and Little-Bit of the 
artist’s arrival. Almost at that instant. Ban- 
ning arrived with the tea-tray, and a maid fol- 
lowed with the hot cakes. With suppressed 
giggling and excitement, the two little girls 
put themselves into the positions they had ar- 
ranged to take. 

Demurely, Debby sat at the tea-cart, busy 

169 


170 


DEBBY^S YEAH 


with the cups. It had been one of those sunny, 
crisp winter days when the sun seems reluc- 
tant to leave a happy world, and Banning had 
not drawn the curtains, so that a shaft 
of the sinking sun came through the diamond 
panes of one little side window and shone on 
Little-Bit’s glorious hair. 

‘^Oh! he’s coming, honey,” Debby cried in a 
panic, ‘ ^ sit more in the sun, never mind if you 
can’t see, it is only for a minute. Oh, Little- 
Bit, you haven’t any idea how positively glo- 
rious your hair looks with the sun on it. I 
wish I could paint myself!” 

Her voice dropped to silence as Mortimer 
Poole entered. 

He had intended an apology for Debby, and 
the sound of her little voice as he came up the 
stairs had brought a smile to his tired face. 
He hadn’t heard what she said, but just to 
listen to her speak was enough. What would 
he do without her, the darling child! 

But the instant he entered the room, saw 
Little-Bit’s hair, he forgot all about that. He 
strode across the room to the window seat in 
which she sat, and his voice had lost every- 


DEBBY^S YEAR 171 

thing but a vibrant note of eagerness as he 
spoke. 

‘‘Child, yon must have dropped from heaven! 
Will you let me paint you?^’ 

“Of course!’^ Little-Bit stammered, she was 
so eager and so frightened. This was the 
great Mortimer Poole, the famous artist all 
the world talked about. He had done that 
picture of “The Forgotten Desert’’ that often 
brought tears to her eyes as she studied it hun- 
grily for the look that her own dear father had. 
And — he wanted to paint her ! Oh I it was too 
much, it was too wonderful. Great tears rose 
in her eyes as she followed him to the model 
throne, allowed him to hx her little head be- 
neath the lights. 

With hardly a sound. Banning wheeled away 
the tea-cart. Debby made a face at Little-Bit, 
that almost aroused the tiny fairy of a girl 
to hysterical protest. What did she want with 
tea, if Mortimer Poole wished to paint her! 
It hardly seemed necessary to eat again, ever ! 
She felt as if she floated above such mundane 
things as food and comforts, as if she could 
sit on that hard chair, with her head turned 


172 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


away from the man who painted furiously at 
his easel, forever. 

But after a wliile she began to ache. There 
was such quiet in the studio that she wondered 
if Debby had gone, until her friend came around 
on the other side of the model throne and whis- 
pered. 

‘‘He^s off, Little-Bit, and goodness knows 
when he’ll come alive again. He’s got to get 
you down on canvas, you know. Do you think 
you can stand it, shall I ask him to stop?” 

‘‘No, no”; said Little-Bit beneath her breath. 
But every nerve in her body now ached from 
the unaccustomed strain. Never a day went 
by at Miss Tence’s that she did not dance or 
swim or fence in the gymnasium. She was 
used to activity, used to exercise, and the strain 
of this enforced position could not help but 
hurt her. 

She fastened her eyes on the lights, counting 
them over and over. Why did Mr. Poole have 
so many screens drawn over the ceiling? Oh, 
she knew, he arranged his lights that way ! To 
think that she was actually being painted, that 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


173 


her hair would the seen always in one of the 
glorious pictures that Mortimer Poole painted. 
Why, it was almost like being famous oneself ! 
How Debby had known about him, too! She 
wished she could know about her father like 
that ! If she lived with him in the same house 
of course she could! Back on the ranch, al- 
though she was such a baby then, she had known 
lots of things about it — but it was so long ago, 
and it had been three years since she had had 
even a letter from him! Anything could hap- 
pen in three years ! 

Oh, this pain in her shoulder ! It was almost 
like a sword thrust, the sharpness with which 
it attacked her. If it came again like that she 
might cry out and spoil the picture. SheM 
think about something else! How funny Mr. 
Poole must look painting that way! HeM 
worn a suit that looked like Fifth Avenue, and 
a flower in his buttonhole, when he came in, 
and because he was absent-minded, or some- 
thing, he^d brought his hat and cane upstairs 
with him! Perhaps he had taken off his coat 
and put on one of the smocks he used to paint 


174 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


in? But no, he hadn^t taken time for that, she 
was sure. Oh ! there was that awful pain 
again ! 

The clock struck in the distance, and Little- 
Bit strained to listen; seven o’clock! She had 
thought it must he nine. What about the din- 
ner guests Mr. Poole was having? 

Soon after this Debby stole up behind her 
again. 

‘‘I — I don’t know if Uncle Mort will kill me,” 
she said, ^‘but I asked Banning to telephone 
and put off the people who were coming to 
dine. They were old friends, they understood, 
I suppose, but if they didn’t I can’t help it 
now, it’s done. Little-Bit, are you all right?” 

‘^Ab-so-lutely !” said the small voice faintly, 
with a slangy accent that Miss Tence would 
have heard with horror. But Debby, hearing 
something unusual, hurried round until she 
could look into Little-Bit’s face. 

‘‘You — you arenH!^^ cried Debby in a panic. 
“Uncle Mort, you must stop, dear, I — I think 
it’s killing Little-Bit!” 

She ran to the easel and looked up into her 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


175 


uncle’s face. He simply hadn’t heard her 
speak, he was so intent on his work, and with 
a courage that an older person might have en- 
vied, Debby caught at his wrist. 

Uncle Mort, Little-Bit — ” 

There was no need to say more. Mortimer 
Poole stopped suddenly and strode towards 
his small model with a shocked exclamation on 
his lips. He put out big, gentle arms and lifted 
her bodily from the chair, swinging her to her 
feet and steadying her tenderly. 

‘ ‘ Child, I am a brute ! ” he said remorsefully, 
forgot that I was painting a human being. 
A professional model would have called me to 
time, fast enough. Why on earth didn’t you 
speak?” 

Little-Bit looked up at him shyly. This was 
the great artist, as she had imagined him. How 
she envied Debby her association with the great 
man ! She started to speak, and stopped in em- 
barrassment, looking out of the big brown eyes 
at her friend. With her usual promptitude 
Debby came to the rescue. 

''Little-Bit is tickled to death that you 
wanted to paint her. Uncle Mort, she was afraid 


176 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


of disturbing you or something! I — I guess 
1^11 have to look after you both; how long do 
you paint at a time, with your other models? 
Hadn^t we better make it a bit shorter for 
Little-Bit ? ^ ^ 

The practical commonsense of the question 
roused Mortimer Poole to admiration. He 
realized, too, that it had taken real courage 
to interrupt him. With a laugh he held out his 
watch to Debby, smiling across at both girls. 

‘‘Make it five minutes at a time, Debby, that 
is plenty long enough. Then we can rest for 
the same time. It won T take much longer, any- 
how tonight; I am going to see if Little-Bit 
wonT give me some more sittings later on.’’ 
He smiled to himself at their unconcealed de- 
light. 

When they finally stopped for the night 
Debby felt that formal introductions had to 
take place. Little-Bit — as Miss Elizabeth 
Warde — had to be presented to Uncle Morti- 
mer. The explanation of how the little girl 
came to be staying with her was truthfully 
made by Debby, with a matter-of-fact air that 
took from the recital all trace of awkwardness. 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


177 


Whatever the man felt, he shewed nothing but 
the most exquisite and almost humble delight 
in the intuition of his little niece. He did not 
spoil her pleasure by shewing his own shame 
at his former behaviour. But when it was all 
said, he drew both girls gaily to the shelter 
of the old sofa, and seating them one on either 
side, told them seriously that they might choose 
a half of his kingdom, and it wouFd be given 
them. Whatever they wished for the morrow — 
‘‘after weVe had something to eat,^’ he added, 
^‘you may both be fairies, but I^m a mun- 
dane mortal and must eat ! — ^ ’ they could have 
or do. Then, with a touch of ceremony that 
they were each young enough to love, he es- 
corted them downstairs to the dining room, 
where Banning was setting out an appetising 
meal. 

When dessert was done with, the last bit of 
ice-cream eaten, the last macaroon nibbled and 
gone, he turned to the two with a gentle air 
of resignation. 

“Now, ladies, for the half of my king- 
dom — r’ He paused expectantly. 

Little-Bit leant across the table, laughing 


178 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


softly. Beneath the shaded lights her hair 
glittered and shone as if it were alive. Her 
eyes sparkled charmingly, the tiny red mouth 
was ready for laughter, and as the artist looked 
from o^e to the other child’s face, he thought 
that he had never seen anything more allur- 
ing. 

^^Oh, Debby!^’ Little-Bit’s voice was almost 
like a breath, it was so soft; ^^do you think we 
could ^ — 

‘‘You could!” averred Uncle Mort, “but I 
have a curiosity to know what?” 

“She means — ” Debby began. 

“But perhaps^ — ” Little-Bit sat back, it wat 
as if words failed her. 

“Tell him, Little-Bit!” said Debby, dimpling. 

“But perhaps we are not thinking of the 
same thing, Debsy!” 

“What do you bet, then?” 

“Two buttons and a scarf-pin!” It was 
their own formula, and so absurd that it always 
brought their laughter. Their eyes said to 
each other that their idea was the same, and 
they each of them knew it, but for another mo- 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


179 


ment they coquetted with the thought that per- 
haps — it — might — not — be ! Then, with her 
usual headlong impetuosity, Debby burst out 
with the thought. 

‘‘Little-Bit wants to go to New Jersey to see 
Mumsy and the rest!’’ 

“Tomorrow!” cried Uncle Mort, striking the 
table with his open palm, “with coach and 
horses and many gee-gaws! We three will go 
in state, we’ll carry your half of my kingdom 
on a golden platter, with a request that it be 
served piping hot, and — so that I shan’t be 
robbed of the remainder during my absence 
from New York, I’ll carry the half that’s left 
to us, Debby, in a brown leather bag in my 
hand. Will that suit you, ladies? Those for 
it please signify by saying ‘ay’! The ays 
have it, thank you! Heavens, kiddies, if you 
don’t go to bed you’ll never be able to arise at 
dawn to undertake the memorable journey. 
Away with you ! ’ ’ 

But for long after the sound of girlish 
laughter had died away in the big, echoing 
house, Mortimer Poole sat by the fire in the 


180 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


library, watching the smoke curl upward from 
his cigar, gazing with eyes that now and again 
grew misty at the pictures he saw in the glow- 
ing coals. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Some time after the visit to Debby^s old home, 
Little-Bit came to their usual rendezvous after 
luncheon with a very troubled face. 

“Debby,’’ she said, going straight to the 
point as was her custom, ‘^Henrietta is up to 
some mischief again. Has it ever struck you 
that she held any grudge for that time when she 
had to apologize — you remember 

<<Why no^’; said Debby slowly, ‘‘what makes 
you ask?’’ 

But even as she put the question things that 
she had scarcely noticed at the time kept 
coming to her memory. Prom being quiet and 
very cordial, Henny had taken to making re- 
marks, in a jocose manner, whenever Debby did 
anything out of the usual rut. It was Henny 
who had said that no girl at Miss Tence’s, at 
any rate in Class 3B, had ever made a big effort 
to gain the ‘excellent’ mark for any of her 
classes. It was not the truth but Debby did 
181 


182 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


not know this, and she had no reason to doubt 
Henrietta’s word. 

‘^Why?” Debby had asked, her eyes wide 
with surprise. ‘‘We have an excellent we can 
gain, haven’t we, then why shouldn’t any one 
try for it!” 

“Oh, it just isn’t done, that’s all!” Hen- 
rietta had drawled. There had been no otfence 
in her words, but her manner had been subtly 
annoying. Debby, knowing that Henny hated 
to work above all things, had put it all down to 
jealousy, tried to forget it. But there had 
been so many things — they began to come 
back in a flooding memory as she heard Little- 
Bit ’s reply to her question. 

“I — I thought perhaps you’d noticed,” said 
Little-Bit with a troubled air; “there have 
been so many tiny things — ” she broke otf with 
a sigh. “Henny simply can’t bear any one to 
lead except herself, Debby, you know that, and 
of course you can’t help leading; you were 
born that way, I guess. ’ ’ 

“Oh, do you think so!” said Debby, startled 
and pleased. Of course she had not been able 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


183 


to see herself as the other girls saw her, and 
as Little-Bit and Henrietta, each from their 
diiferent angles, had seen her. But it was a 
fact that Dehby never came into the gym- 
nasium in the morning — ^where the girls 
gathered together, playing and dancing be- 
fore the first bell rang — that there was not a 
sudden rush of her classmates to greet her. 
And she had a following all day until the car 
— or a decorous Tootie — came for her in the 
afternoon. Her name was on many lips : 
‘‘Debby says’’ — or ‘^Debby Jannison did — ” 
floated about the old schoolhouse with a 
pleasant sound to Little-Bit’s steady worship. 
That it was a different thing to Henrietta Van 
Marten, who had always been the only one to 
lead in her class until Debby’s advent, had oc- 
curred to her many times. 

This was the first moment that she had 
thought it necessary to mention the subject to 
Debby, however, and she did so with reluctance. 
It hurt Debby so to have people dislike her 
without reason, she had found. She was so 
generous herself that she could hardly credit 


184 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


any lack of generosity in others. And she had 
been as pleased as a baby when Henny had be- 
haved so well in that horrid affair. 

But — Little-Bit had had a long experience 
with Henrietta. She knew that the time for 
trifling was past. Henny wanted to ‘‘show 
as she put it, and she would not be satis- 
fied until she had proved to her admirers that 
she was more popular than Debby. After all, 
it must not be lost sight of that some of the 
girls had a special satisfaction in following in 
the train of Henrietta Van Marten, simply be- 
cause she was a Van Marten! Henny traded 
upon that fact shamelessly! “As if she could 
help what family she was born in!’’ said 
Little-Bit to herself angrily, 

“I’ll tell you, Debby,” she said now, going to 
her usual seat and drawing the tiny low chair 
to Debby ’s feet, so that she was close to her 
chum, looking up into the sparkling blue eyes 
that were alight with pleasure at Little-Bit’s 
former speech, “just what I heard. I think 
you ought to know.” 

But she found it hard to begin, hard to take 
the happiness out of those eyes of Debby ’s that 


DEBBY’S YEAE 185 

met hers so merrily. Finally she made a 
plunge and then it was easier to go on. 

was coming through the library/^ she 
said, ^^on the way from French ; you know I am 
taking extra conversation with Llademoiselle, 
now, so that I don^t get the same hours as Hen- 
rietta ; and in the corner by the divan I found 
Henny and some of her tribe, you know who I 
mean. Crystal and Beatrice and that foolish 
little Betty. There were one or two others, but 
I donT remember just who they were, now. 
Well, as I went in I heard Henrietta say: Hhe 
fact of the matter is, girls, that Debby Jan- 
nison needs to be taught a lesson. She thinks 
she’s the whole cheese — that was her ex- 
pression, Debby, not mine, you know Henny is 
often quite vulgar in her conversation! — ‘and 
it is time that she is shewn where she stands. 
Of course it is nice for her to be taken up by 
that rich uncle of hers, quite a talented man 
too, my Papa says!” — ^now that she had 
started Little-Bit was using her powers of 
mimicry to the full — “ ‘but I understand that 
if he had not taken pity on her she would never 
have been able to come to Miss Pence’s school. 


186 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


for example. They are really the most impos- 
sible people, they live in New Jersey — you^d 
have thought, Bebby, that New Jersey was the 
desert or some place! — Well, Crystal said 
quickly, ^that’s nothing, Henny, lots of charm- 
ing people live in New Jersey’; and Henrietta 
looked at her angrily, and went on as if she 
hadn’t heard — ^so I am thinking of giving this 
Bebby person a lesson. I haven’t quite 
thought out the details yet, but you keep a close 
eye on me, girls, and you are liable to see 
something!’ Then they all laughed, hateful 
things! and I slipped on through the room. 
I’m so little and make such a small amount of 
noise on that account, that I don’t think they 
any of them heard me. I didn’t mean to listen, 
you know, but when I heard your name and the 
pig speaking like that,” said Little-Bit with 
vigour, simply couldn’t help it. Now, what 
I want to say is, Bebby, that you’d better look 
out. When Henny gets going she doesn’t mind 
what she does.” 

^ ‘ But — why should she want to get even with 
me?” said Bebby in much bewilderment. ‘H 
haven’t done her any harm, and she doesn’t 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


187 


know Mumsy and the others, or she certainly 
wouldn’t speak like that!” A fiery expres- 
sion crept into her eyes, and she glared at an 
imaginary Henrietta as they talked it over. 
‘‘Why,” she said, “not one of the Jannison 
family would talk like that about any one, we ’d 
be ashamed. And if she knew how I felt about 
leaving them all and coming to live with Uncle 
Mort — ” she almost choked as she thought 
about it. 

“Oh, gosh!” said Little-Bit inelegantly but 
with feeling, “it is too bad, Debby. I — I could 
punch her head right in front of everybody, I 
feel so m*ad.” 

Debby burst out laughing. The thought of 
Little-Bit punching big Henny’s head was too 
funny, she could not refrain from a mental 
picture of the sight. And Little-Bit laughed 
too, ruefully, as if she hated to admit her lack 
of strength to stand up to Henrietta on behalf 
of her chum. 

‘ ‘ I tell you what she is ” ; she exclaimed with 
energy, ‘ ‘ she ^s a blot on the school name, that ’s 
what she is. Why Miss Tence puts up with 
her I don’t know.” 


188 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


They discussed the matter a little further, 
and in the middle of their conversation the bell 
rang, and they had to hasten downstairs. 

‘‘Oh, Debby, we haven T done any ‘telephon- 
ing,^ ’’ said Little-Bit remorsefully, “weVe 
been too annoyed. Now we shall have to do it 
alone after school ends.^^ 

Mademoiselle, passing at the moment, looked 
at them suspiciously. 

“You girls are not allowed to use the tele- 
phone without special permission,’’ she re- 
marked icily in perfect English, and gave them 
each an order mark when they burst out laugh- 
ing. 

“I’ll teach you to laugh at me!” she re- 
marked spitefully as she retired to enter the 
bad marks in the book. 

“Gee whillikins!” whispered Debby, “isn’t 
that fierce?” She had been making a point of 
going through the term without a bad mark of 
any kind, and she hated to see her name entered 
in the book. Little-Bit, being a boarder and 
therefore more open to marks for a longer 
period — as she had remarked to Debby before, 
“the day girls had the best of it, for they 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


189 


couldn^t get order marks for having their 
rooms untidy at home, as they wouldn^t be ex- 
pected to clear away their muddles’^ — was 
more pliilosophical about it. 

‘‘Well, thank goodness she didn^t know what 
we meant she ejaculated. “Debby, IVe got 
an idea ; let ’s ‘ telephone ^ about you and Henny, 
as well as about papa!^’ 

“All right’’; said Debby gloomily, “but it 
seems as if we were burdening the Great 
Central with a lot of things to attend to, doesn’t 
it? Do you suppose He’ll mind?” 

Little-Bit could make no reply, for they had 
entered the classroom and all must be silent 
until the entrance of the visiting professor. 
Little Miss Hyde was sitting there primly keep- 
ing order; but although she was little, her dis- 
cipline was perfect, and no one dared make a 
sound when she was on duty. 

Soon Debby found herself deeply emersed 
in the lecture. She had discovered to her sur- 
prise that she had a real love for study, once 
away from the rather irritating expectation of 
teachers not tactful enough in their method of 
expressing astonishment at any mistakes she 


190 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


made. Here, where the tuition was of the 
best in every way, and she had no standard of 
comparison with the rest of the ^‘clever Jan- 
nisons,^’ she enjoyed every minute of her school 
work. It wasn ’t that she tried so particularly 
hard to study, although she did try, of course, 
being always mindful of her special advantages, 
but simply that she enjoyed her work so much. 
Her earnest blue eyes became a delight to the 
professors who visited the famous school from 
time to time, and her intelligent questions and 
answers were almost an inspiration. More 
than one spoke of ‘^that little Miss Jannison^' to 
Miss Tence, and were interested to learn that 
she was the daughter of Paignton Jannison, 
Senior. His connection with Debison the 
famous was well-known. 

Today was an especially interesting occasion. 
The half-term reports were sent out this after- 
noon, and Debby stepped into Miss Tence ’s 
little room to get hers before leaving the 
premises. The secretary handed it to her with 
a smile, and a brief word of congratulation. 

‘‘Very few girls have a report like that to 
show, I assure you^’; she said. 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


191 


So, with a glowing face, Debby noted that 
Uncle Mortimer had himself come to fetch her 
instead of Tootie as usual. He had the little 
roadster, and was driving himself. Seated at 
the wheel he looked so young and brisk that 
more than one of the older girls cast admiring 
and demure glances at him as they passed with 
governess or maid on the way to their homes. 
Debby, running with her accustomed impetu- 
osity to his side, waved the big white envelope 
in his face as she climbed in. 

Uncle Mort, I have my report. Oh, I am so 
excited ! ^ ’ 

‘^WarmU’ said Uncle Mort, smiling his nice 
crinkly smile. 

^^Like a salamander answered Debby. 

She held the report tightly in her hand, wait- 
ing for the moment when they should reach 
home and she could show it to him. But 
instead of turning as they came to Seventy- 
Second Street, Uncle Mortimer kept on down 
Broadway. 

‘‘Guess where we^re going, he said mis- 
chievously. 

It was a glorious day. The sun shone and 


192 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


the air was crisp and delightful, and as ex- 
hilarating as if it were a tonic. The first hint 
of spring was in the air, and every one was 
smiling and happy. A little tingle of joy 
started in Debby’s heart, could it be possible 
that they were going — home? She looked up 
at Uncle Mort briefly from under her thick 
dark lashes. 

^‘Are — are we going to Long Island?^’ 

Uncle Mortimer had old friends living there 
whom they visited sometimes. 

‘‘You Ye a poor guesser 

“We — ^we arenT going to New Jersey? said 
Debby in a small voice. 

‘ ‘ Don T you think they dl like to see us ? Just 
for supper, you know, a how-d’ye-do and good- 
bye visit. I thought it would make a nice 
spin. ’ ’ 

Debby said nothing, she couldn’t, she was so 
happy. Uncle Mort didn’t seem to mind much 
about whether she got a good report or not, 
but Mumsy would. She’d be so happy that 
Debby had done well. Why, it was the best 
thing from a school point of view that had ever 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


193 


happened to Debby, though of course with Jane 
and Helen and Peggy it was a usual thing 
enough. Her fingers itched to open the thick 
envelope. 

When they were across the river and driving 
on through beautiful country, Uncle Mort 
stopped to light a cigar. He took two or three 
puffs as they sat there still, and then Dehhy 
thrust the envelope into his hand. 

^^Just a minute, look at my report Uncle, 
won^t you, please?^’ 

‘‘Pretty anxious, aren’t youU’ he said 
smiling and doing as she asked, “afraid I’ll 
beat you or something if you aren ’t at the head 
of your class?” 

Then his eyes dropped to the paper, and he 
read it with a faint whistle of surprise pursing 
up his lips. “A regular highbrow, aren’t 
you?” he said lightly, tossing the paper back 
into her lap and turning the car once more into 
the highway; “I thought you were not clever, 
Debby?” 

“Oh, I’m not. Uncle Mort, I’m an awfully 
frivolous sort of person,” said Debby ear- 


194 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


nestly, ‘‘only everything is so interesting at 
Miss Tence ^s ! I like even the arithmetic class, 
and I always used to think — 

Mortimer Poole interrupted her speech with 
a little half-humorous gesture. “Spare me 
the details, Ladybird, I never could do anything 
with mathematics myself ; but if you find them 
interesting, all right! Only — don^t turn into 
such a clever young lady that I shall be afraid 
of you, will you? I want a companion and a 
comrade, not a schoolmarm. ’ ’ 

A little chill entered Debby^s mind. He 
wasn^t really pleased at the report, then, he 
didn^t care what marks she had! Oh, if only 
she had known this, perhaps she could have 
done less well. And yet, why? Common- 
sense came to her rescue. This was only some- 
thing Uncle Mort thought he felt, he wouldnT 
really have liked her to be stupid. He had no 
use for stupid people, she had heard him say 
that again and again. But — a wistful little 
smile took the place of the merry one ; he ought 
to have had dear Silly instead of herself. Silly 
was not stupid, but she was just what their pet- 
name for her implied; a dear little Silly. 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


195 


Pretty — daily Debby believed more and more 
in Cecilia beauty! — and with that trustful, 
innocent way of believing everything and 
everybody that Uncle Mort really wanted. 
And while she was cheerful, she wasn^t so 
awfully cheerful as Debby was! She hadn’t 
practised as much. Oh, she really believed 
Uncle Mort had made a mistake in choosing 
her, he ought to have taken Cecilia. But when 
she had told him that he had laughed and said 
she suited him, and no one else would do ! 

Well, Mumsy would like that report, any- 
how! Without glancing at it herself Debby 
thrust it into the big pocket of her coat and 
looked about her. 

Why, they were nearly there. Sudden des- 
perate eagerness crowded into Debby ’s mind. 
Oh ! while it was daylight and every one could 
see, she wanted to drive up Main Street and 
out to the edge of town herself. She could 
drive quite well by now. Uncle Mortimer had 
been awfully good about teaching her, would he 
let her do it this once? 

To her rapid query he nodded an amused as- 
sent, and they changed places, Debby ’s little 


196 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


hands guiding the wheel with ease. It was so 
that she drew up before the gate of the shabby 
little house she loved more than all others, and 
her face was red with pleasure as she noted 
that Sallie Thatcher and the rest of the bunch 
were standing on the other side of the street 
watching. She waved her hand gaily and ran 
into the house and to her mother ^s embrace. 

Touring around the block, half an hour later, 
she came to the conclusion that she had the 
very nicest uncle in the world. All the kids 
who could possibly crowd in had taken posses- 
sion of the tiny car. They hung on the sides, 
over the doors, and sprawled on the back. 
Sallie Thatcher, in the seat of honour next 
Debby, was almost suffocated by the weight of 
human being on top of her. ^‘Debby, honest^’ ; 
she cried, ‘‘I think I^d rather just hang on and 
let the others take my seat.^^ And she strug- 
gled to rise. 

This, however, was not possible. Sallie had 
to stay put. With happy laughter the game 
went on, and when at last they called her to 
supper, it was a very different Debby from the 
immaculate little girl who had driven up to the 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


197 


door. Her hair hung in tendrils all around her 
face, her hat was crushed out of recognition. 
Her shoes were muddy where other shoes had 
pressed, and her hands were grimy from tinker- 
ing with the engine in a desire to show how 
much she knew. Mortimer Poole looked at her 
and roared, and Cecilia wailed that her beauti- 
ful coat was all spoiled and dusty. 

But — ^with content in her faded, laughing 
eyes — Mrs. Jannison looked across at her little 
daughter and softly made the motion of clap- 
ping her hands. Mumsy had read her report 
and was delighted ! The rosy light that always 
came to her when she was especially happy 
suffused Debby^s world. She breathed a sigh 
of utter content as she went to wash her hands : 
For once she felt almost as if she were really 
and truly one of the clever J annisons ! 


CHAPTER XIV 


‘‘We are going to have a fancy dress ball, Uncle 
Mortimer, at the end of the term,^’ Dehby said 
with great excitement one evening, “and Little- 
Bit says that perhaps yon ’ll design a dress for 
both of us ! Will you ? ’ ’ 

Her azure eyes, sparkling with anticipation, 
met her uncle’s gaze eagerly. “I thought,” 
she went on, “that you were much too busy for 
that sort of thing, but Little-Bit says artists 
always know what different people ought to 
wear, and she thought it would be lovely if you 
would. I — don’t mind about mine if you can 
do Little-Bit’s,” she added, “but I would like 
something special to come to her now. She is 
so unhappy, you see. ’ ’ 

Mortimer Poole had heard, of course, all 
about the fact that there had been no letters 
from or other news of Glossop Warde the 
explorer, for three years. His face grew grave 
as he heard Debby’s statement, and he thought 

198 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


199 


to himself bitterly that a man had no right to 
marry and have a child and then go otf into the 
wilds for years at a time. Little Bit suffered 
too deeply. And — of course there was always 
the chance that the man might not come back! 

But he did not let Debby see this. “Of 
course Idl design both your costumes/^ he said, 
“and you shall be the prettiest ladies at the 
ball. Debby, there is only one thing Little-Bit 
can go as, of course, she is the very image of 
Titania, the queen of the fairies. We’ll have 
a dress for her that will look as if it were woven 
of golden cobwebs.” 

“Oh, glorious!” said Debby, gasping at the 
picture she saw of her dainty friend. 

Mortimer Poole narrowed his eyes, taking in 
Debby as she stood before him. They had fin- 
ished their dinner, and in her excitement the 
little girl had left her seat and run around the 
table to him. She had on a little frock of pale 
blue silk that brought out the delicate rose of 
her cheeks, deepened the blue of her eyes. She 
was exquisite in whatever she wore, but of 
course her beauty could be enchanced by its 
setting. Place a rose in a lovely situation and 


200 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


it would seem more perfect. As the idea came 
to him he saw Debby as a rose, and the fancy 
pleased him. Taking a pad from his pocket 
he made a few rapid sketches upon it, and 
turned it round so that Debby might see. 

‘‘I am going to send you as a rose,’^ he said, 
‘^an American Beauty, honey; do you see how 
the colours will go shading down from rose to 
palest pink at the heart? It — if I can make 
Louison see it — will be the most perfect thing 

He laughed at Debby ’s delight, and then 
laughed again to himself as at some pleasant 
secret. Ah ! that would please Debby, he would 
arrange it! He took out his notebook and 
jotted down a few lines, shutting it with a snap 
and putting it away carefully. 

Then he laughed again. 

‘‘Any guests allowed?^’ he asked. 

“At the ball? Oh, of course. Uncle Mort. 
All the parents will be invited, and lots of Miss 
Tence’s friends, and each one of us can ask a 
friend if we wish — of course I want to ask 
Mumsy,^’ she said wistfully, “but I know she 
won T accept, ' ' she added. ‘ ‘ She never goes out 
to parties,’^ 


DEBBY^S YEAR 201 

‘‘Wouldn^t you like to ask Cecilia*? That is, 
if your mother canT come/^ 

< < Oh ! ^ ’ rapture shone in Debby ’s face. ‘ ‘ But 
I am afraid she would have nothmg to wear, 
Uncle Mort, nothing that would quite do, though 
she need not have a fancy dress, she added, 
^^that is optional for all visitors.^’ 

‘‘You could lend her one of yours couldn’t 
you?” said Mortimer Poole carelessly, and 
again he laughed with a kind of secret delight. 
‘ ‘ Silly — as you call her, would look very pretty 
in one of your pink dresses.” 

“She’d love it,” said Debby, and ran 
away to write a letter of invitation in her 
room. 

When she had gone Mortimer Poole called a 
number on the telephone, and presently was 
deep in conversation with Madame Louison. 
What he said not even Banning knew, for he 
lowered his voice when the old man passed him, 
and once deliberately waited until the door was 
closed and he had the room to himself. 

“ ’Spose I can take a hint without having it 
made into a chunk of wood and hurled at my 
head ! ’ ’ Banning grumbled to himself as he went 


202 DEBBY’S YEAR 

out. It was plain that Mr. Mortimer had a 
secret ! 

The sketches that were coloured and given 
to Dehby to show to Little-Bit were really tiny 
works of art, and Little-Bit insisted that 
Madame Louison must be so careful of them 
that they might be framed when the dresses 
were made. ‘‘I am going to hang mine beside 
my ‘Forgotten DesertM’’ said Little-Bit, 
“though it isn’t a bit the same. Debby, do 
you think that your Uncle Mort would sign 
them for us I I should be so proud to have a 
signed picture that he had made. ’ ’ 

“I’ll ask him”; Debby said. 

Mortimer Poole laughed when the request 
was made and scribbled his name on the bot- 
tom of the design. “That’s little enough to 
do for her when she helped out with my new 
picture”; he said; “tell her that when that is 
done she shall have an artist’s engraving, 
signed. She ’ll like that ; though she won ’t ap- 
preciate the value until she’s a good many years 
older!” he added to himself. 

The new picture was almost done. Debby 
could not see where it was not finished, ‘ ‘ except 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


203 


for the frame, ’ ^ as she said to her uncle. It was 
so beautiful that she gasped when she looked at 
it, though she did not know what it was all 
about. Like all Uncle MorUs pictures, it told 
a story ; hut Debby did not know what that story 
was. iShe had asked Tootie, and the old woman 
had stolen up to the studio when her master 
was out, and stood long before the canvas. But 
she knew no more than Debby, and said so with 
emphasis. 

‘‘Land o’ Goshen, Miss Debby, I don’t believe 
that Mr. Mortimer knows himself just what it 
all means. He ’s gone crazy with colour, likely, 
while he painted it, and got just as many of ’em 
in as he could. It ’s just a lot of folks in a great 
bare room — and a lady singing — ” 

“But what’s she singing about, Tootie, to 
make them all look so — so kind of sad.” 

“ ’Tis sad; ’tis thoughtful! Lots of folks 
look that way when they hear a person sing. 
We have the most beautiful high singer in our 
church on Sundays, and she fair makes the 
folks weep, too.” Tootie sighed as at a de- 
lightful reminiscence. “Don’t you bother your 
little head about it, my lamb, there isn’t much 


204 DEBBY’S YEAE 

more to that picture than you see, I^m think- 
ing. ’ ^ 

But all the same, Dehby knew that the old 
lady was wrong. She thought many times that 
she^d ask 'Uncle Mortimer, hut always she re- 
frained. She rejoiced over one thing, that the 
singer — ^the central figure — ^had Mttle-Bit^s 
glorious hair and a suggestion of her delicate 
beauty. It was very faint, though, no one in 
the world could call it a portrait. 

The days at school had become filled with 
anxiety that Debby tried hard to keep under. 
It wasn’t anything big — unless her trouble 
about Little-Bit’s father could be called that, 
when she daily saw her friend growing more 
thin and white and anxious ; — but it was a thou- 
sand little things. Henny was at the bottom of 
it all, she knew, and of course she couldn ’t man- 
age to make everything unpleasant, but there 
were pin-pricks, and the other girls took their 
cue from Henrietta, often, and tortured the 
sensitive, merry little heart of the Debby who 
had never known disapproval to any great ex- 
tent. If it had been anything that she could 
lay her finger upon it would not have been so 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


205 


bad. But it was not ; when anything happened 
Henrietta always managed to be out of sight. 
Once Hebby^s drawings were smudged, nothing 
that could be definitely fixed upon any one, and 
yet enough to prevent Debby getting full marks 
for them. Another time, there was a whisper- 
ing and fidgetting all the time about Debby in 
the classroom, and Mademoiselle, who was 
very nervous, accused Debby point blank of be- 
ing the centre of the disturbance. That she 
denied having anything to do with it did not 
help her with Mademoiselle, who was impatient 
of explanations. And she did not quite under- 
stand Debby ^s sense of honour, which did not 
permit of her stating the cause of the trouble. 
^^If not you, then whoT’ she had asked in her 
rapid French, and shrugged her shoulders when 
Debby was silent. It pointed conclusively, to 
her way of thinking, to the fact that Debby was 
the ringleader. 

Always when at play I see you as the 
leader,’^ she said, ^^why then should it be that 
you do not lead nowT^ This succinct state- 
ment did not make it any better for Debby in 
the future, as it placed her still further in the 


206 DEBBY^S YEAR 

black books of Henrietta and her few satellites. 

‘‘Debby, I don’t know how yon stand it!” 
Marjorie Wrexham said indignantly one day, 
meeting Debby as they both left the school 
premises together. Marjorie had been a great 
champion of Debby ’s ever since the time that 
she had witnessed what she always called 
Debby ’s heroism.” 

^‘Why don’t yon go to Miss Tence and have 
it all ont? Henny wonldn’t have a word to say, 
and perhaps Miss Tence wonldn’t let her stay 
any longer at the school. Good riddance of bad 
mbbish, say I,” she added. ^^No one really 
likes her, yon know that, and she wonld not be 
here if she were not a Van Marten. She simply 
trades on that fact all the time. ’ ’ 

‘‘Well, I conldn’t go to Miss Tence, Marjorie 
dear,” said Debby in snch decisive tones that 
the matter was closed. Bnt it comforted her 
vagnely to know that most of the girls were on 
her side. At least, horrid thongh Henrietta 
was, every one did not side with her. 

It was while Tootie was padding abont her 
room, that night, folding np garments that had 
been discarded, setting the whole place to rights 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


207 


before she opened the windows and left Debby 
to sleep, that the little girl asked her the ques- 
tion that was to have such a bearing on her 
destiny for the next few days. 

“Tootie, if some one was awfully horrid to 
you all the time, but you couldn^t fix it on them, 
what would you do T ^ 

‘‘Go to ^em and ask ’em why, my dear, that’s 
always the best way. Take the bull b^ the 
horns is my motto!” 

So it happened that the next morning, finding 
Henrietta in the cloakroom when she arrived at 
school, Debby walked right up to her, and — 
although her heart beat so loudly with excite- 
ment that she thought that Henny must hear 
it! — she said: “Henny, what have I done to 
make you hate me so?” 

“Hate you? Of course I don’t!” Henrietta 
was very red, she grew pale suddenly with a 
kind of rage that made her eyes smoulder dan- 
gerously. 

“Then why do you act as if you did?” 

“Because I don’t consider you my equal, 
that’s why!” burst out Henny furiously. “I 
think I’m insulted every time I have to re- 


208 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


cite in a class with a girl of your breeding. I 
wish you would never speak to me again 

‘‘You are right, I am not your equal!’’ 
Debby said, and she knew she was furious, for 
it was as if she had a weight on her heart and 
her words only came with difficulty. “I hope 
I shall never be your equal — for ill-bred mean- 
ness. And you need not trouble about my 
speaking to you, either, after this,” she added, 
“for I shall not do so until you apologize to me 
before the school for all your horrid ways. ’ ’ 

Henrietta walked out of the cloakroom, and 
Debby sat down on a chair suddenly. She had 
no strength in her legs, and she felt sick and 
tired and wretched. 

“How I wish I could talk to Mumsy!” she 
groaned to herself. But — if she could what 
would Mumsy say? Not very much, she knew. 
That first Sunday that she had gone home and 
had spoken of Henny before, what had she said 
then? She’d talked about “telephoning,” and 
asking God to help; well! Debb^ felt awfully 
rebellious. She wanted different counsel than 
that right now! She wanted some one to pat 
her on the back and say she had done quite right 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


209 


and to tell her how fine and courageons she was ! 
And — Mnmsy wouldn’t do that! She never 
had, to any of her children. They weren’t fine 
when they were bad, though she loved them just 
the same. They must find it out for themselves 
though, she had always contended. Well, if 
she was bad now then she wanted to be! She 
hated, hated, hated Henrietta Van Marten! 
She wished she need never see her again. 

All the morning she avoided Little-Bit, for 
she wanted to sulk by herself. It was difficult 
to sulk with Little-Bit about, she was always so 
downright. That her sympathy was entirely 
with her chum Debb^ knew, but she didn ’t want 
to talk to any one. 

Some of the girls in Class 3B were very 
strange in their manner. At recess they 
bunched together in a little group and whis- 
pered, and suddenly a sentence or two stood out 
from the rest. ‘‘You wouldn’t!” said Beatrice 
Frensham in her ugly, strident voice. 

“Do you dare me?” 

Henrietta was speaking. 

“Yes, if you put it like that I dare you, 
Henny, but you’ll never do it, all the same !” 


210 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


Henrietta, her head in the air, marched from 
the room and did not reappear. When the bell 
rang for the re-assembling of classes, she still 
was absent. Whispering was rife, it was 
almost impossible for the teacher in charge to 
keep order. Marjorie Wrexham, sitting next 
to Debb^, passed her a note with a scrawled 
question as to the whereabouts of Little-Bit? 

Debby looked around! No, little-Bit was 
not in the class. What could have happened to 
her? Debby remembered her pale cheeks and 
heavy eyes of the past few weeks, and wondered 
with a qualm if the friend she so loved could 
be sick? No one had ever known Little-Bit to 
be absent from her French classes before, for 
she liked languages better than anything. 
Until Mademoiselle dismissed them to the next 
hour Debby sat and worried. Then, courting 
reprimand, she flew to Little-Bit’s room. 
Perhaps she was lying down? 

But no one was in the pretty room that Little- 
Bit always called ^‘her home.” Debby flew 
back again to the class. 

Suddenly a wild thought occurred to her. 
Had their “telephoning,” been answered? 


DEBBY^S YEAE 211 

Could it be possible that Little-BiCs father had 
arrived? 

But she had not been in a girls’ s'chool as 
long as this without having some idea that if 
this had occurred, in some way the girls would 
know. Some one would have seen him enter, 
have seen the maid call Little-Bit, known that 
she had a guest ! Her absence from class 
would have been accounted for, but as it was, 
no one now knew anything. Little-Bit had 
simply disappeared. 

Towards the end of the class there was a 
rustling and flutter. Some one said that Miss 
Tence was coming. It was only a moment 
that the news preceded her, and then that lady 
entered the classroom. 

Every one rose; it was a tradition of the 
school. They might not have stood for any one 
else in the world, but for Miss Tence not a girl 
in the place but gave her the ready homage in 
her heart she accorded outwardly. When her 
hand waved them back to their seats, twenty 
pairs of eyes were fixed upon the principal 
enquiringly. Class 3B was too large, but it 
seemed to prosper that way. 


212 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


‘^Debby,’’ said Miss Tence pleasantly, ‘‘I 
want yon to do something for me. I am sorry 
to make yon an errand girl, my dear, bnt jnst 
now I have no one else to send. Mr. Poole has 
very kindly promised me a set of Greek stat- 
nettes for my lectnre this evening, and I shonld 
like to be able to stndy them for a short time 
beforehand. The car is ontside, and I want yon 
to fetch them for me. I canT send any one else 
qnite as well to yonr own home, yon see, and 
yon shanT lose anything by it, I mil see that 
yon are given credit for yonr lost honr. Be as 
qnick as yon can, my dear, will yon not 1 ’ 

The tone was so pleasantly anthoritative that 
no one in the class gnessed that anything 
nnnsnal was afoot, least of all Debby. She got 
np with her nsnal impetnosity, narrowly 
escaped colliding with the door in her eagerness 
to let herself ont, and disappeared. 

Miss Tence lost her air of pleasant complai- 
sance then, her eyes flashed. 

‘^'Class 3B,^’ she said, ‘‘I shonld think some 
of yon wonld be very mnch ashamed of yonr- 
selves ! ’ ’ 

If she had let a clap of thnnder loose, the girls 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


213 


could hardly have been more surprised. One 
or two shifted uneasily in their seats, remem- 
bering what Henrietta had been dared to do, 
but the rest sat as if petrified. Miss Tence 
allowed the menace of her attitude to sink in, 
and then went on. 

am here to discover,’’ she said, ‘^just 
exactly what happened in this disgraceful 
affair of Debby Jannison and Henrietta Van 
Marten. As you know, there is no disgrace on 
Debby, she has behaved well from beginning to 
end. Back at the beginning of term, when 
this thing started, I permitted Henrietta to 
apologize to Debby — for a gross insult to the 
Jannison family — in private. Debby ’s family, 
I should like to state here, is as old and honour- 
able as that of any one present. There is no 
exception to this whatsoever. In addition, in 
the persons of her father and her uncle, Debby 
is related to two of the most distinguished men 
of our generation. If she were not, it is not a 
girl’s family, it is what the girl is herself that 
counts. You know — or all my training has 
gone for nothing — that you must individually 
measure up to a certain standard of character ^ 


214 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


or you cannot remain in my school. If Debby 
had been a child taken from the gutter, it is not 
the privilege of any girl in my school to criti- 
cize me! But I make this statement advisedly, 
and if any one does not perfectly understand 
this simple fact, they had better say so, now. 
Is that acknowledged! Miss Jannison^s family 
is honouring my school by sending me one of 
its members — a girl who is honourable, sincere 
and courageous 

There was a faint murmer. Miss Tence 
inclined her head. 

Thank you’’; she said sarcastically, ^‘I 
thought I made myself clear!” 

wish now that I had made that apology 
public,” said Miss Tence, ‘‘it seems that Henri- 
etta has not been generous enough, not suffici- 
ently well-bred, to remember that. She has 
made life difficult for Debby here in class, and 
has cast aspersions on her home and family 
behind her back and to her face. Is this true, 
girls, or am I misinformed I ’ ’ 

No one spoke, but again there was that low 
murmur. Miss Tence singled out the girls who 
had been especially friendly to Henrietta. 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


215 


‘^You Beatrice, and yon Betty, and Cry- 
stal, you can speak. What do you all 
think r’ 

‘‘It was like the Spanish Inquisition’’; 
Marjorie Wrexham confided afterwards to 
Debby. The girls thus called upon spoke, so 
low that there was difficulty at first in hearing 
what they said. But Miss Tence insisted 
inexorably. They must be heard by the rest of 
the class. “Oh, so there had been persecution 
had there, and they had helped to carry it on! 
She hoped they were proud of themselves? 
Yes, they might sit down, she would deal with 
them later!” And on and on the merciless, 
cutting voice that could be so beautiful, went in 
its probing inquiry. 

Finally, it was all finished. Crystal and 
Betty and Beatrice and Elsie, the ringleaders 
under Henrietta, were gathered together at 
the end of the room. Miss Tence, enjoining 
absolute and utter silence, disappeared, and 
presently came back with Henrietta, a Henri- 
etta with swollen eyes and a white, despairing 
face, a Henrietta for whom even the indignant 
Marjorie felt a little pity. 


216 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


Henrietta Van Marten, pilloried, stood before 
the class she once had led. 

And again Miss Tence disappeared, and this 
time brought back an amazed and bewildered 
Debby, whom she stood for an instant facing 
the downcast Henrietta. 

‘^Just one moment, my dear, Henrietta has 
something to say to you. Now, Henrietta !’^ 

The apology came, slowly and in agonized 
accents. Debby knew that Henrietta was 
suffering the utmost torture. Tears came to 
her blue eyes, she wanted to throw her arms 
around poor Henny, but she could hardly do so 
in front of all the other girls. So she just stood 
there, flushing and paling by turns until Miss 
Tence released her. 

‘^Go to my study, my dear, I wish to speak 
to you. ^ ^ 

So, Debby went, and there was Little-Bit, 
a frightened, sad Little-Bit who wondered what 
Debby would say to her ! That she had not an 
idea of what had taken place beyond the painful 
scene with Henny in 3B classroom, she did not 
know until Debbj enlightened her, and then she 
breathed a glad sigh of thankfulness. It would 
be so much easier if Miss Tence explained. 


CHAPTER XV 


It did not take Miss Tence long to do that. 

She came into the study with a very thought- 
ful expression on her face. This gave way to 
a smile when she saw Debby, and she put her 
hand under the child’s chin and kissed her. 
‘^My dear,” she said, ‘‘you have been brave but 
not very wise. I hope you will always have as 
much courage as your wisdom increases.” 

Then she looked at Little-Bit, and nodded her 
head. “Sit down, both of you, and be comfort- 
able,” she said. “We are going to have lunch- 
eon all together here, will you like that, girls? 
I thought we were all rather tired and excited 
and a rest might do us good. But before we 
have our meal, I want to tell you, Debby, what 
Little-Bit did for you. 

“Henrietta came to me with a garbled version 
of what happened between you two this morn- 
ing. She declared that you had admitted that 
you Avere not her equal, and she demanded that 
you be removed from the school. I — I think 
217 


218 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


the poor child was a little crazy with anger,’’ 
said Miss Tence regretfully, ^‘though that 
makes it no better. I — I had to listen to her, 
of course. 

^Mt is difficult about Henny. Years ago her 
mother was my best friend, and I have put up 
with things in the girl that I would not have 
tolerated for an instant in some of you, because 
I hoped to help her. But I haven’t been able 
to do that, it seems”; Miss Tence sighed; ‘‘so 
I am letting her go. However, this is getting 
on too fast with what I set out to tell you, 
Debby.” 

She smiled affectionately at both girls. 
“I’m glad you two are friends,” she said 
irrelevantly. 

“Henny had finished, when out from under 
the divan crawled Little-Bit. She was dusty 
and dishevelled, but she did not remember that. 
I think she forgot that I was there for a minute, 
for she just stood up in front of Henrietta and 
said: ‘Henny, you’re lying and you know it!’ 

“Then she turned to me and told me how 
things had been: What she had overheard 
Henrietta say that day in the library, how the 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


219 


girls had treated you. I don^t think there were 
many things she forgot, Debby, and at the end 
she just turned to Henrietta again and said: 
^now, contradict and twist it if you want to; 
I Ve plenty of witnesses. ’ 

^‘Naturally, I talked with both girls, I found 
out in the main how matters were, and then, my 
dear, I called up your uncle and told him I 
wanted you out of the school for a half-hour, 
and might I send you for the statuettes 1 That 
is how it happened that I sent you for them. 
I could not have you there when I was making 
the strict inquiry that was necessary. ’ ’ 

There was silence for a minute, and then 
Ldttle-Bit said timidly: “Debby, I wouldnT 
have told if it had been myself, but I couldnT 
help doing it for you. I can T help it if it was 
telling tales, and you hate it, Debsy! I knew 
how Henny could twist things, and I heard her 
say at recess what she was going to do, and so 
I rushed in here and hid — ’’ she stopped, tears 
in her bright eyes. 

“Debby understands, dear,^’ said Miss Tence 
gently, ‘ ^ she knows that it was one of the hard- 
est things you ever did.^’ And gently. 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


220 

she left the room for a moment, to permit the 
little girls to talk as they wished without her 
presence as a restriction. 

''Little-Bit,'’ said Debby, "I'll never forget 
about it. I — I didn't really know you loved me 
as much as all that!" 

" Oh, I love you more than any one else in the 
world," said Little-Bit chokingly, "except 
papa, and I think he 's dead. I never hear from 
him anymore, and every one seems to think he 's 
perished. Oh, Debby, what if our 'telephoning' 
shouldn't be any use after all?" And she 
burst into a passion of sobs. 

"But it must be, it must"; Debby said 
desperately, "it is certain to work, Mumsy says 
it always does." 

"She — she knows"; said Little-Bit with a 
smile, sitting up and wiping her eyes, "your 
mother is the most beautiful person I ever 
imagined, Debby dear. If I could have any one 
like that I think I'd die of joyfulness. But — 
I've never had anybody much; mamma died 
when I was so tiny, and papa went away so 
often after that. I used to dream sometimes 
that my mother came back to me from heaven, ' ' 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


221 


said Little-Bit with a wistful smile, ‘‘and she 
would have, Debby, if she’d know-n how much 
I needed her, I believe. Debby, don’t you think 
any mother would? And I know my mother 
was lovely, too. She had a smiley kind of 
mouth just hke your Mumsy has. Oh, Debby, 
what do you say to ‘telephoning’ some more 
now about my papa, perhaps God has forgotten 
for a minute, and that will remind Him.” 

Miss Tence, coming in from the hall in front 
of the maids with the luncheon, stood silently 
for a minute in wonder. Both Debby and 
Little-Bit were very silent, and their eyes were 
shut. But Miss Tence had not been principal 
of a girls’ school for so many years for nothing. 
She made no remark. But she coughed slightly 
and thus aroused them without comment; she 
knew that sometime she would probably know 
w'hat it was all about. 

They had a very merry luncheon, and no one 
would have known from Miss Tence ’s manner 
that her heart was heavy. She had been obliged 
to send Henrietta away from her school at last, 
after years and years of trying. This made her 
very sad, and she wondered if the fault lay with 


222 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


her. Perhaps she had not done all she conld 
(for poor Henrietta. All that afternoon, sitting 
in apparent idleness, she searched her mind for 
the place where she had been at fault. She did 
not want to fail with even one of the girls en- 
trusted to her. 

The days went by at a swift pace after that 
towards the ^end of the term. Every one^s 
thoughts were focussed on the coming fancy 
dress ball. In all the history of the school, it 
had been whispered about, no such attempt to 
do things on a big scale had ever been made. 
A delightful atmosphere of secrecy pervaded 
everything. None of the girls were supposed 
to tell any except their best friends what they 
had decided to wear. There was to be a good 
deal of fun during the masking period, though 
about that Little-Bit expressed a good deal of 
annoyance. 

‘‘A lot of good it is going to do me to wear 
a mask^’; she said, every one will know who 
I am ! How I wish that we could find another 
tiny person to invite, Debby, so that I could 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


223 


really have some fun!^^ Then she sighed 
resignedly; after all, everybody had always 
known her at their balls before, and she had 
enjoyed them all the same. But her little face 
wrinkled into troubled lines after a while. It 
took a good deal to take Little-Bit out of her- 
self just now, she was so worried about her 
father. 

Once Debby mentioned this to Uncle Mort, 
but she gained very little satisfaction. Mor- 
timer Poole felt sure, with the rest of the world, 
that Glossop Warde had died away on the out- 
skirts of civilization and the vultures had long 
since picked his bones clean. But he did not 
say this to Debby, of course, knowing that she 
must comfort her friend. All the same, Debby 
received some idea of it from his silence and 
attempt at cheer. 

Three days before the night set for the ball, 
Little-Bit received a visit that upset the world 
for her. Mr. Franklin, one of the trustees of 
her father ^s money during his absence, came 
to the school and was closeted for a long time 
with Miss Tence. Then he asked to see Eliza- 


224 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


beth, and talked to her for some time in simple 
terms of the difficulties that had arisen with re- 
gard to her father ^s investments. 

don^t understand it as I ought, Debby, 
but it seems that something has happened to 
papa’s money, and it doesn’t come in the way 
it used to. If he were still alive they would not 
make any difference, but it seems that even the 
natives out there think he must be dead. They 
made a search — some Society with a long name 
sent out a party of men to look for him, and 
they’ve just come back — and no one thinks he’s 
alive any more. Except — except us!” she 
added, her lips quivering. 

It was a funny thing, but if Little-Bit had 
asked her the moment before if she thought that 
Glossop Warde was alive, Debby could not have 
answered yes. But now — ^with the need of her 
faith in the fact that her father was alive, some- 
where, by some miracle, the absolute belief that 
he was had come to Debby. She had been think- 
ing of Little-Bit’s father as dead, and now she 
knew, yes hnew, that he was most gloriously 
alive. So the tone in which she replied to her 
friend was confident and reassuring. 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


225 


‘‘Little-Bit, he^s alive, darling, I know he^s 
coming back to you!’’ 

“When he does,” said Little-Bit, her face 
steadying a little, “there will be plenty of 
money, of course. You see, Debby, he went to 
outline some boundaries for a geographical so- 
ciety — ^it was a big piece of work, Mr. Franklin 
told me, he said that I must always be very 
proud that papa had given his life for the fur- 
therance of science, and if he succeeded they 
were going to pay him a lot of money. But — 
he would not get that until he came back!” she 
added, “and in the meantime all the invest- 
ments have failed or something. I don’t under- 
stand it, ’ ’ she said rather pitifully, “ all I know is 
that I have to leave Miss Tence’s. I have only 
a little money, now, instead of a good deal!” 

“Oh, no; Little-Bit! Why, Miss Tence her- 
self couldn’t stand it without you.” 

There was deep distress in Debby ’s voice! 
School, without Little-Bit! It was unthink- 
able! 

“Oh, she’ll want me to stay, of course, Debby, 
but can I do it ? I am not very old, I know, but 
girls who haven ’t any money are working some- 


226 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


times at fourteen, I have read about them ! If 
I keep on here at school I shan^t be fitted for 
any of the useful things I ought to learn to do. 
Mr. Franklin talked very sensibly ; he said that 
as my position had changed I ought not to con- 
tinue on in a fool ^s paradise. There are lots of 
schools where I can study for half the cost, or I 
could live in some nice family and go to school 
in the real American way, with everybody. Mr. 
Franklin said I ought to learn to mix with 
people, not to be kept in cotton batting! I 
think I should like it, too, if I only knew how. 
We certainly used to mix pretty well out west 
on the ranch. 

Debby would have interrupted her, but Little- 
Bit went on dreamily: 

‘‘Besides, after all I canT accept charity, not 
unless I could be sure of paying it back. I 
donT know that I ever could if I stayed on here 
and went to school in this way. There’s — 
there’s so much luxury here, Debby; you must 
know that because you’ve lived differently part 
of your life. If I graduated from here — should 
I be any use to earn my own living, do you 
think?” 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


227 


Debby choked. The scheme of things seemed 
to be reversed. Here was Little-Bit, brought 
up in luxury and ease, and all at once she had 
lost almost everything, and was talking about 
earning her own living. And she, Debby, who 
had always roughed it more or less until she 
came to live with Uncle Mort, could have every- 
thing she would need for always. Oh! it was 
hateful ! 

She started to say something, but at that mo- 
ment the bell rang and they had to go. 

‘^The old thing always does ring when you 
want to say something!^’ Debby reflected 
gloomily. 

But after all, what was there to say? It was 
a horrid world! 


CHAPTEE XVI 


During class, however, the magnificent solu- 
tion came to her mind. She signalled Little- 
Bit that she had it, caught Mademoiselle’s eagle 
eye and was given an order mark. But even so, 
it seemed worth it when she noticed the relief on 
Little-Bit’s face. 

^‘Huh!” Debby said to herself more inel- 
egantly than usual in her excitement, ‘ ^ as if she 
could take care of herself ! Not for a long time 
yet, anyhow, why, she’s bewildered even at the 
idea!” 

She told her plan quite calmly to Little-Bit 
as she waited while Debby got into her outdoor 
things in the cloakroom devoted to the day girls. 
Little-Bit had no business there in the world, 
if she had been caught she would have been 
given an order mark; but — somehow Little-Bit 
never was caught 1 The teachers all looked the 
other way I She was so small and so appealing, 
and every one knew that she was alone in the 
228 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


229 


world. For probably Little-Bit herself Jiad 
been the last one to have heard this news about 
fhe loss of her father ! 

‘^Tell you what you do^’; said Debby while 
Tootie buttoned her high shoes, ‘^you come and 
live with me. Uncle Mortimer likes you, you 
don’t need to be told that, and he’d adore to 
have you with us! Think how extra cheerful 
it would make it for him 1 I have been with him 
almost six months now, and in another six I 
shall be fourteen and able to chose for myself ! 
Of course I shall choose to go home to Mumsy 
and the others,” she added, ‘‘or at least I feel 
sure I shall, somehow, and then you can come 
with me and just be another of the Jannisons. 
It ’s awfully plain out at my home, you know all 
about it because you’ve been there, and some 
things you’d hate, after having been used 
to the other kind. But it is nice, way down deep 
it’s awful nice, Little-Bit, and you would learn 
every day how to get along with folks, the way 
Mr. Franklin said. You could start with the 
family,” she laughed. 

Mrs. Banning couldn’t hear very well when 
she was stooping over, and most of this was 


230 DEBBY^S YEAR 

lost to her. When she rose to her feet the two 
little girls were capering about the cloakroom 
with their arms entwined, solemnly ‘‘celebrat- 
ing^’ in their own peculiar way, the big idea. 

Little-Bit had no qualms about accepting. 
It seemed to her the most obvious arrangement. 
Indeed, she wondered, as did Debby, why they 
had not thought of it before. Had the situa- 
tion been reversed she would have made the 
same suggestion to her friend that Debby now 
made to her, and they loved each other so that 
it did not seem at all out of the way for her to 
accept the hospitality so freely otfered. Be- 
sides, she had enough money to pay well for 
her board, both now and later. 

Debby, almost dancing home at the side of the 
sedate and panting Tootie, said nothing of the 
plan. She wanted to tell Uncle Mortimer first, 
and to see his glad face. Time enough to men- 
tion it to Tootie when everything was arranged. 
Mentally, she did a lot of planning. They 
would be so good that they would cause no extra 
work. And as for clothes, they each of them 
had enough to last for years and years ! 
Uncle Mort would really only be at the expense 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


231 


of a little extra food, and enough was wasted, 
thought Debby, to account for that. Simply 
it was a plan without a flaw. 

However, she was unable to mention it to her 
uncle that night, for Banning told her that he 
had gone down to Long Island to dine and spend 
the night. 

The next morning at recess Miss Tence sent 
for her. Was Debby sure, the tired and har- 
rassed woman asked, that Mr. Poole approved 
this arrangement? Of course, the imntation 
for Little-Bit to dine and spend the night and 
day following the fancy dress dance with 
Debby, had come in due course. But that was 
days ago, before any of this had arisen. It 
seemed a wonderfully generous thing for such 
a famous man to do, but artists had bigger 
hearts. Miss Tence said, than lots of other 
people, she believed. And of course Little-Bit 
would repay him with love and gratitude all 
her life. 

Debby said quite frankly that she hadnT spo- 
ken of it to Uncle Mort yet, but she was sure he 
would have mentioned it himself first had he 
knowtj a^bout Little-Bit. He was so fond of 


232 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


her ! The moment he came hack from the coun- 
try she, Debby, was going to tell him. And oh, 
iplease. Miss Tence, when it was all decided 
mightnT Little-Bit bring all her things when 
she came for the night of the fancy dress party, 
so that she wonldnT have to come back to 
school the first day of vacation and pack? 

Miss Tence, smiling, thought it conld be ar- 
ranged. 

She was tired out, herself. It was always 
this way at the end of the term, she told herself 
wearily, and in two days it would be all over, 
at least for another three months. She would 
go to the sea and the mountains, and revel in 
being without any girls for a while. Not but 
what she loved them, one and all, but one might 
have too much even of a good thing! As for 
Little-Bit — she thoughtfully admitted that it 
was the one solution she could trust temporar- 
ily. 

Little-Bit knew — against her wishes Mr. 
Franklin, tiresome old man! had insisted upon 
telling her! — ^that she had not enough money 
to keep on attending boarding school at Miss 
Tence ^s expensive establishment. That the 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


233 


principal would gladly have kept her with her 
for years without a cent of pay, she could not 
accept for an instant. She was too proud, and 
she really believed, dear child, that she could 
earn her own living. Well, if Mr. Poole would 
keep her for six months, perhaps by that 
time another suggestion might be made. Or — 
Mr. Warde might return! Explorers were 
never really dead like other people, that is, un- 
less some one had seen them die. And no one 
had seen Glossop Warde, that at least had been 
proved. 

Miss Tence dismissed the whole subject to a 
later hour. When Mr. Poole was back in the 
city again she would telephone him and talk 
the matter over. How nice that Debby and 
Little-Bit were not to be separated ! That was 
a friendship on which Miss Tence looked with 
favour ; each girl had what the other lacked, she 
thought. Well, time would show — many things ! 

Mortimer Poole, enjoying the sunshine and 
fresh air down at Connemara, the country home 
of an artist friend, lazily decided that he need 
not return to town that night. Just as long as 
he got back for the dinner Debby was giving to 


234 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


her friend Little-Bit and to Cecilia, before the 
fancy dress party, he could stay. Nothing 
else was important enough to take him home. 
He sent a wire that he would not return 
until Thursday afternoon, and went golfing with 
his friends, care-free and debonair. He had 
just finished his new picture, and was under- 
going that lethargy of mind and body that often 
comes at the cessation of tremendous effort. 
He thought of Hebby often, and could not re- 
sist boasting of the charm and naivete of his 
adopted daughter. Little did he realize that 
this same naivete was to cause him a distinct 
shock on his return home. 

^‘Miss Tence has been trying to get you, sir’’; 
Banning informed him the afternoon of his re- 
turn, ^‘and she left a message to ask you to 
please call her between five and six, if you were 
in.” 

‘‘Very well, get her on the phone. Banning, 
please.” 

Presently that lady’s pleasant but hurried 
voice met his courteous “hello” of greeting. 
There was a brief exchange of compliments. 


DEBBY’S YEAR 235 

and with her usual directness Miss Tence went 
at once to the point. 

‘‘I shall see you tonight with the children, 
Mr. Poole, I hope, but I wanted to thank you 
first for your goodness and generosity to Eli- 
zabeth Warde. We may not have opportunity 
to speak of it in the crowd. 

Groodness — ^generosity? What did the good 
lady mean? Surely she couldn^t be referring 
to the little visit Little-Bit was to make to 
Debby? He could hear the clear voices and 
the rippling laughter of the two girls now. 

‘H^m afraid I don’t quite understand you. 
Miss Tence!” 

‘^Ah!” he could hear the principal catch her 
breath. ‘‘How thankful I am that I insisted 
with your man that you call me. Debby had 
the idea, Mr. Poole, that you would not mind 
acting as guardian, with all the words imply, 
to Little-Bit for the next six months, along with 
herself. The child has lost — or so it is feared 
— her father, you know, and a part of her in- 
come has mysteriously disappeared in the past 
year. The business executives were holding on 


236 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


until this report of Mr. Wardens death was ver- 
ified. However, when the expedition got back 
they felt that they could no longer withold the 
truth, and much to my grief — for Little-Bit is 
almost like my own child ! — insisted upon telling 
her. I do not need to tell you, I hope, that I 
would keep Little-Bit here indefinitely with me, 
but that she will not hear of. She seems to 
think that if she were with Debby, in time she 
might go to the Jannison home in New Jersey, 
and learn to earn her own living in the company 
of those clever boys and girls. I thought not 
having heard from you before this that you had 
agreed to the plan ; it was for this I was thank- 
ing you. It was quite remiss of me, I should 
have made certain; but these last few days 
of the school year are like a nightmare!” 

A light laugh floated over the wires to him. 
Mortimer Poole stood thinking, forgetting to 
speak. 

^^Well?” he heard a voice ask. 

— I am afraid Debby has the wrong idea. 
Miss Tence!” he answered swiftly, then. 
‘ ^ I like and admire Little-Bit, but I do not want 
her perpetually around. One child, in a bache- 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


237 


lor household, is quite enough. And really I 
don^t think the plan would work, because of 
course Debby is not going back to her old home 
ever, as a permanency. I regard her as my 
own daughter; she will inherit my wealth. If 
she ever marries she will leave me, I suppose, 
but I hope it will be a very long time away.^’ 

At the other end of the wire Miss Tence said 
to herself: ‘‘How the man loves her! And 
yet — he won ^t give her this little bit of compan- 
ionship her heart craves, nor interrupt his 
delight in her presence to widen his doors to 
receive another child ! Ah ! something tells me 
that Debby will go back to that home she still 
loves so dearly!’’ 

But aloud she murmured discreetly: “I 
quite understand. I am glad to have had this 
talk with you. Well, it is all over, I can 
make other arrangements for) Little-Bit. 
I am afraid the trunks have gone on 
to you, by mistake. I gave no orders 
for this, but some one evidently took it 
in hand” — she smothered a laugh as she 
realized that Debby had probably taken the 
thing in hand — “please send them back. But 


238 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


of course the child is to spend the night in your 
home, over the dance, you remember!’’ 

^^We’re always glad to have her!” said 
Mortimer Poole quickly, and with a further 
pohte murmur the conversation ceased. 

‘^If you please, sir’'; said Banning, who had 
heard the one-sided part of this conversation 
over the wire and guessed at the other, ‘‘Mrs. 
Banning do say what is to be done with little 
Miss Warde’s trunks! They just came, Mr. 
Mortimer, sir, and just about fill the basement. ’ ' 

This was too much! Debby might consider 
his house her home, but surely, if he had been 
her real father, she would have consulted him 
to the extent of asking his willingness, before 
allowing her friend to land in the house 
with all her baggage. He looked at Banning 
coldly, snapping out his words. 

‘ ‘ They can stay where they are ; they will go 
back to her new home tomorrow when Miss 
Warde leaves.” 

“ Jehosophat !” said Banning in conster- 
nation, “if the master isn’t warming up for one 
of his rages!” 


CHAPTER XVII 


Mortimer Poole, however, did not give way to 
his vexation. He ran np the stairs to his bed- 
room, stripped off his dusty clothing, and 
jumped into the hath. Then, cooled and 
refreshed, he dressed again in his evening 
clothes, and decided to send for Debby. He 
could hear her laughter and Cecilia’s — just as 
merry but a little fainter! — up on the other 
floor where her rooms were, and across the hall 
Little-Bit tripped and laughed and sang as she 
scurried in and out. Mrs. Banning’s rich, 
comfortable monotone mingled in with that of 
the little girls, too, sometimes. Mortimer felt 
himself in the midst of a very charming atmos- 
phere. 

Well, he would tell Debby very gently that 
she had made a mistake, her plan could not 
work. The child wouldn’t mind much when he 
explained it, she had always shown herself so 
very sensible. 


239 


240 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


Ooing to the foot of the stairs he called in his 
pleasant, mellow baritone, ‘‘Oh! DebbyT^ 

“Hello, Uncle Mort!^^ She came to the head 
of the staircase and looked over, her dnsky 
cloud of hair floating about her charming face. 

“Come down a moment, I want to see you!’’ 

“Just a minute. Uncle dear!” Catching the 
little kimono about her, she flew back to the bed- 
room. Mortimer could hear her explaining to 
Cecilia that she had to go down and see Uncle 
Mort for a minute. Then she came, her eyes 
starry in their sparkle, her face so rose tinted 
that it invited kisses. Two bare, round arms 
went about his neck. 

“Uncle, you are the darlingest, wonderfullest 
old sinner that ever thought up a beautiful tea- 
rose frock! Mine is a beauty, the American 
Beauty rose dress. Uncle Mort, but Silly’s, the 
Tea-Rose, you should just see it! She nearly 
fainted when I shewed it to her! Yes, honest, 
I’m not making it up. She said she’d never 
seen anything so wonderful in her life.” 

“You didn’t guess, did you?” he asked 
contentedly. 

“Never an idea!” she assured him; “I 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


241 


thought there had been a mistake when they 
sent two boxes from Madame Louison^s. And 
you should see Little-Bit in her costume ; 
Uncle, she’s a real queen of the fairies.” 

^‘It was about Little-Bit I wanted to see 
you ! ” he said. 

^^Yes?” She had felt it coming; the shadow 
was very faint but it touched her face, hid in her 
eyes. ‘‘Uncle I wanted to ask you about hav- 
ing Little-Bit here for the rest of my year, but 
you weren’t at home and I didn’t have a chance. 
But I knew you wouldn’t mind, of course, you 
always love her so. ” 

“But — my darling — that doesn’t mean that 
I want her here always. ’ ’ 

“No; no, of course it doesn’t; but I 
explained, didn’t I, it is only for the other six 
months 1 ’ ’ 

The other six months ! 

The child might as well have stuck a knife 
into his heart as say those words like that. 
She had set a definite ending to her life with 
him, then, she did not mean to stay after the 
year was up. 

But he said nothing ; all the determination of 


242 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


which he was capable, and it was a great deal, 
rose np in him to fight this resolution of hers. 
Dehby should stay, she would want to stay in 
the end. She did not realize what she would 
be giving up. 

‘ ^ Honey, he said in his gentlest voice, am 
afraid youdl have to give up this mad scheme 
of keeping Little-Bit with us. I have already 
spoken to Miss Tence and told her that it will 
not do. She agrees with me, I am sure. Now, 
of course there is no need to tell Little-Bit any- 
thing of this tonight, but tomorrow, when the 
party is over, she must understand about it. 
Will you tell her, or would you rather I didT’ 

‘Hdl tell her. Uncle. For a moment the 
blue eyes looked at him as if they did not quite 
understand; the sparkle had gone out of them, 
they no longer shone with brilliant excitement. 
Mortimer Poole regretted that he had felt that 
he must do this ; but after a while, even Hebby 
would understand. It was all right to be gener- 
ous, but quite another thing to be quixotic. 
How all his friends would laugh if he took 
another child into his home! They^d begin to 


DEBBY’S YEAR 243 

call it the orphanage — he could just hear their 
shouts of laughter. 

Leisurely — , he sauntered downstairs. 

Presently, Banning came to him with a mes- 
sage. The young ladies were taking so much 
longer than they had thought to get dressed, 
that they were going to have their dinner up- 
stairs. Mr. Mortimer ^s was served in the 
dining room. 

Well, he did not deny that he was a trifle 
disappointed. Still, as he sauntered into the 
fragrant, cool room, with the table for one set 
in the embrasure of the window, so that he 
could look out at the Hudson, he told himself 
that it was pleasant, after all, not to see the 
three children until they were ready for the 
party in all their finery. How beautiful they 
would look I 

He was not mistaken ! When the three girls 
came down the staircase to the waiting car, 
attended by a fluttering, anxious Mrs. Banning, 
and an admiring Banning in the distance, he 
felt charmed to think that his efforts as ia 
designer had not been thrown away. Madame 


244 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


Louison had really done very well, very well 
indeed. He touched the filigree on Titaniums 
wings with a delicate hand. Yes, that was 
real metal-work, no sham about it ! As for the 
dainty fairy queen herself, she was exquisite, 
and he told her so, in her filmy blue and silver 
and copper, shot with lavender fires, the wand 
in her hand tipped with a tiny electric light. 

Little-Bit wore no mask. She had said truly 
that every one would know her, and on this hot 
night she would prefer to be without it, anyway. 
She coquetted saucily with Uncle Mort in her 
little girl way, and he hardly had time to look 
at the others as he would have liked, before they 
were all in the car. But he had a memory of 
the descending figure of the Tea Rose — ^little 
Cecilia, that was beautiful in spite of the mask, 
and when the American Beauty came after her, 
he almost caught his breath. With this gown 
Madame Louison had surpassed herself. Or — 
perhaps it was that it suited Debby so to perfec- 
tion! The little girl carried herself as if she 
were a queen tonight 1 He had never seen her 
quite as resplendent. And those pretty feet 
in the deep rose slippers, he had never seen 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


245 


quite how beautiful Debby^s feet were until 
now ! He must make her sit to him for those 
feet in his next picture. Dreamily, he leaned 
back and began to plan it. 

He noticed none of the by-play between the 
girls. To Miss Tence, used as she was to deal- 
ing with girls, it would have been plain that all 
three were labouring under some intense excite- 
ment. A greater excitement than even a fancy 
dress dance warranted. Their voices trembled 
and were stilled, they giggled amongst them- 
selves, they began to speak and hushed 
suddenly with a frightened glance at Mortimer 
Poole. But in the short ride nothing much 
was likely to happen, and they alighted at the 
entrance to the big old house with their crazy 
ways unabated. 

^^Mr. Poole you’re not masked!” It was 
Little-Bit who addressed him, diverting his 
attention as the two sisters slipped away to the 
dressing room to leave their cloaks. Little- 
Bit had given hers to Debby, and stood with 
him in the hall. 

He made a face at her. ‘‘No mask for me, 
thank you, on this hot night. I suppose the 


246 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


girls think they are fun, they wore theirs 
coming here, even.’’ 

‘‘I suppose so”; said Little-Bit, smiling. 
^‘Here they are, isn’t that American Beauty 
dress of Debby’s a wonder, Mr. Poole? 

‘^Yes,” he confided with a laugh that held a 
good deal of pride, never knew how really 
a beauty Debby is until tonight, it seems to me. 
She carries herself so well, but don’t tell her 
I said so,” he added quickly. 

With a laugh she slipped away, and the art- 
ist made his way to Miss Tence with a niece on 
each arm. He chatted to them as they went, 
for the crowd was pretty big, but neither of the 
girls said much, he noticed. ‘‘Scared!” he 
commented to himself, remembering that this 
was an event to both of them. 

He had not danced much for years, but he 
had wanted to have this first dance with Debby, 
and was vexed when he caught sight of the two 
roses out on the floor together, floating and 
gliding like the veritable flowers they repre- 
sented, in each other’s arms. Many girls were 
dancing together, of course, for there were not 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


247 


nearly enough boys to go round, and the little 
girls had to dance with each other. But he 
waited until the girls came back and then 
stepped forward, claiming the American 
Beauty. 

‘‘Come along, Debby, they are old-fashioned 
enough to have a waltz, I see, dance it with me, 
won’t you?” 

He did not see the wild, half -frightened move- 
ment she made towards the other rose, and as 
he held out his arms she moved otf with him 
easily enough. Why, she might have been a 
bit of thistledown ; she danced better than many 
women who had been at it all their lives. He 
felt his pride increase, but all he said was: 
“some dancer, ladybird, aren’t you?” 

She made a half-articulate response, though 
he could see her eyes gleaming with mischief 
beneath the mask. When he took her back he 
found that Cecilia had moved away, so that he 
had no chance to dance with her then. He 
breathed a sigh of relief, because she probably 
would not dance as well as Debby did, few girls 
would. 


248 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


Looking down, he saw Little-Bit at his side. 
Her eyes were like flaming points of fire. She 
looked the fairy imp she represented. 

‘‘Well, Titania, and how is your majesty 
enjoying life on our mortal plane he asked. 

“It’s not so bad!” said Titania, nodding her 
head wisely. “Silly is out there dancing now, 
Mr. Poole, doesn’t she look lovely?” 

“She’s not as graceful as Debby!” he said 
with a hint of criticism and heard a titter at his 
side. When he looked down, however, Little- 
Bit had gone. 

Unmasking was to take place at supper, of 
course, and Mortimer Poole was at some pains 
to search out Cecilia and ask her to eat with 
him. She accepted effusively, with a little 
bubble of laughter so like Debby ’s that he was 
surprised. Of course he’d never noticed her 
very much, in spite of the way in which Debby 
had spoken of her charms to him, but probably 
the two girls were more alike than he had sup- 
posed, after all. “Enjoying yourself?” he 
said to Cecilia as he turned away. 

She nodded, shyly. Again, the action might 
have been Debby ’s. 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


249 


At supper time he found a little table for 
four, hoping that the other two girls would join 
them, and he was not disappointed, for they 
all three swarmed around him like bees around 
a pot of honey, and he found himself subtly 
flattered at their preference for his society. 

Every one was served before Miss Tence 
gave the signal to unmask. And even then, the 
head of the Tea-Rose maidens trembled a little 
as she raised it to his face. It was at her that 
Uncle Mort was looking, and he did not see the 
American Beauty whip otf her mask and turn 
a bland, innocent stare upon him, for he was 
transfixed by the little, sparkling face that met 
his own. Dehhy had been the Tea-Rose ! 

^‘You didnT know, you didnT know, you 
didnT know!^^ said Little-Bit over and over, 
her pretty voice delighted and happy. ‘‘Oh, 
it was too much fun! When you said that 
Cecilia wasnT quite as graceful as Debby, and 
it was Cecilia all the time! You danced with 
her, she was scared to death you M discover she 
wasnT Debby! How on earth did you manage. 
Silly, about talking? That would have given 
you away. But gosh!’^ added Little-Bit in 


250 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


frank praise, ^^you can dance, Silly; there’s no 
one who can hold a candle to you here, as Mrs. 
Banning would say. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ You certainly can, Cecilia dear ! ’ ’ said Uncle 
Mort. 

His first impulse of vexation had given way 
to amusement. After all, if this had pleased 
the youngsters, why should he mind? Hebby 
was lovely in her Tea-Eose frock, and Cecilia 
could not help it that she looked a trifle more 
charming as the American Beauty. It served 
him right for not having the dresses perfectly 
matched in everything except colour. He had 
wanted, in his secret soul, for Debby to be a 
trifle more beautiful. It was a case of the biter 
bit! He laughed aloud. 

‘‘What made you think of it?” said he. 

“It was Debby ’s idea!” said Cecilia, turning 
adoring eyes on her sister, and giving her uncle 
a look of gratitude at the next minute. 

“Yes; it was my idea,” said Debby, and she 
laughed. 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


‘^Oh, dear! I can descend from the sublimest 
heights to the depths more quickly than an air- 
plane/^ said Debby the next morning, raising 
herself in bed and yawning the words at Silly. 
‘‘And it takes more than gas to send me up 
again! as Uncle Mort says,’’ she added darkly, 
as her sister sleepily murmured words that were 
intended to be cheering. 

“Silly, wake up! There’s ever so much to 
decide. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I know, Debby, but I am so sleepy ; it must 
have been three o’clock when we got to bed. 

“It was four, but that hasn’t anything to do 
with it,” Debby continued inexorably; “when 
kingdoms are falling and all the rest of it, you 
have to make up your mind to very little sleep. 
Cecilia Jannison, I ask you solemnly, do you 
think you will be happy here with Uncle Mort? ” 

‘ ‘ Happy ? Oh ! Debby ! ’ ’ Silly was wide awake 
now, and she jumped from her bed and ran to 

251 


252 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


Debby’s, perching on the end of it like a young 
squirrel. “I feel,’’ she said, ^Hhat if only I get 
a chance at it I will never be any trouble to any- 
body again as long as I live!” 

^^But it’s awfully disagreeable sometimes!” 

^ ^ Oh ! if you mean Uncle Mort ’s temperatures 
— ” said Silly solemnly, totally unaware that 
she had made a mistake, am not going to 
mind them. I am simply not going to notice^ ^ ; 
said Cecilia valiantly. ‘‘Until he has gotten 
over it — whatever it is — I am going to come up 
to my room and just look at my clothes. Look 
and look and look, Debby ! I feel as if I should 
never be tired looking alone, and to wear them, 
oh, glory ! ” She laughed until her little flower- 
like face was one shining round of amusement, 
but Debby found that she was not particularly 
amused, herself. Silly had a way of saying 
“my room,” that Debby did not quite like. 
After all, though everything was decided, of 
course, she had not given up her room yet. And 
although it was a good thing that her clothes 
would fit Silly, naturally, yet it would hurt a 
tiny mite to give them all up ! She had so loved 


DEBBY^S YEAE 253 

and adored — slie added without any feeling of 
exaggeration — ^her pretty things to wear. 

Still, what else could she dof little-Bit had 
no place to go! She couldn’t go home to 
Mumsy in New Jersy without Debby. She 
would be broken hearted! And — Uncle Morti- 
mer had said she could not stay here. Of 
course Miss Tence would take her, but Little- 
Bit knew that Miss Tence had already arranged 
to go to the seashore, and there was no arrang- 
ment made for Little-Bit there. Deb, by thought 
hard for a minute, frowning, and then she 
slipped out of bed and ran to the telephone on 
the wall. 

It did not take her long to reach Miss Tence, 
to explain to that lady that Little-Bit was stay- 
ing with her, after all. She did not add that 
Little-Bit was not staying in Seventy-Second 
Street, but would go on to New Jersey. That 
seemed more than she was equal to, this morn- 
ing. And after all. Uncle Mortimer would ex- 
plain. When he found that Debby had gone 
and left Silly to take her place, he would have to 
make some explanation to Miss Tence before 


254 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


school began. The quick tears rose to Debby^s 
eyes as she thought of Uncle Mort without her, 
putting Silly in her place. Then she brushed 
them away as ungenerous ! It had been a won- 
derful time, this six months with Uncle Mort. 
With all that had happened it looked like a year, 
almost, as she gazed back. She noted the quick 
relief in Miss Tence’s voice as she accepted the 
explanation, and mentally sent her a loving 
farewell over the wire. 

^ ^ Good-bye, you sweet ! ’ ’ she said. ‘ ‘ You are 
the most wonderful school mistress I ever heard 
of! Good-bye!’’ But the words did not reach 
her lips. 

Tootie bustled in a few minutes later. She 
was all solicitude for ‘‘her lambs.” Had they 
slept well, did they want anything! She was 
going to let them take their baths and then 
bring their breakfast upstairs. Miss Little-Bit 
would come and eat with them. Mr. Mortimer 
had already gone out riding in the park. 

Debb^ ran to the bathroom. If she hadn’t 
she would have burst out crying. Tomorrow 
morning, Tootie would come bustling in to Silly 
like this, and it would be Silly she would call 



She sent her 


a loving farewell over the 


wire 








DEBBY’S YEAR 255 

her ‘‘lamb.’^ How often she had felt irritated 
at the old woman ^s fnnny names of affection; 
hut — how much she was going to miss them! 

Still, it seemed the only thing to do ! She re- 
membered that dreadful minute when Uncle 
Mortimer had told her that he couldn’t have 
Little-Bit to live with them. Absolute despair 
had seemed to enter her heart. How could she 
go back to Little-Bit and tell her that? Little- 
Bit who had no home and no money — or only a 
very little, anyway ! Why, it had seemed such a 
cruel thing to do ! 

For an instant, there in the hall when she left 
Uncle Mort and before she climbed to the third 
floor, she had stopped quite still and tried to 
^ ‘ telephone ’ ’ as her mother had taught her. It 
had been very difiicult, hardly any words would 
come. She had felt as if she were bruised and 
aching in the place where her heart should be ; 
but some cry of pain and despair had gone up, 
out, away to the Great Central always watching 
and listening and yearning over His children. 
Anyhow, the answer had come very quickly. 

Debby had not doubted that it was the an- 
swer, Though it had seemed such an odd one, 


256 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


at first. When she had reached her room again 
there was Silly in her dress, the American 
Beauty dress that Uncle Mort had designed for 
Dehby herself. 

‘^Debby, I wanted to try it on!^’ she ex- 
plained, ‘‘you don’t mind, do youT’ 

“I should say not!” said Debby heartily, 
“you look so dear, Silly!” And that had been 
the answer that had come to her. Silly — there 
in her dress, had been a part of it. She had 
seen instantly how the whole thing could be 
righted. Silly could stay here in her place, and 
she would go home with Little-Bit. There was 
always room for just one more in Mumsy’s 
house ! 

And — ^when she came to think of it — Silly 
would really suit Uncle Mortimer a great deal 
better. It hurt to acknowledge this, now that 
she had grown so accustomed to looking after 
Uncle Mort and being cheerful for it, but it 
was true. Silly really didn’t care about her 
studies very much. Even with the wonderful 
teaching she would get at Miss Tence’s Uebby 
didn’t believe she would ever bring home two 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


257 


reports like her last one and the one that now- 
lay unopened in her bag. It had been too good 
to shew Uncle Mortimer, she had hoped he 
would not ask for it! But when she left with 
Little-Bit she must not forget to leave it behind 
her for Uncle Mort to see. It might reconcile 
him to her going, in a way. He simply couldn’t 
bear for her to be a high-brow ! 

But — with all her planning, it had seemed 
only fair to give Uncle Mort another chance. 
So she had thought of using the mask, of see- 
ing if he really could detect any ditference be- 
tween herself and Silly when he thought he 
knew them by their clothes. Well, she sighed 
to herself again as she thought of it, and then 
broke into irrepressible giggles. His face had 
been so funny when he had discovered his 
mistake ! 

After this she jumped out of the bath tub and 
hurried into her clothes. The others wouldn ’t 
be dressed yet, of course, but there were so 
many things to do! The minute she’d finished 
breakfast she had to write her letter to Uncle 
Mortimer. Oh! she did hope he’d forgive her. 


258 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


The tears would have fallen again if it hadn’t 
been that she reminded herself how Uncle Mort 
hated to see her cry. 

'‘But then”; she said to herself with a waver- 
ing laugh, "he hates to have me too cheerful, 
too, sometimes!” 

A little later, with their breakfast, came a 
message from Mortimer Poole himself. He was 
lunching at the club, he had telephoned to say, 
and he hoped the girls would have a good time ! 
They were to do anything they liked. 

Anything they liked! Debby repeated the 
words to herself with a wan little smile. He’d 
think she’d done what she liked when she went 
away from him! 

Little-Bit understood. She came and stood 
by Debby and said nothing, just stood there. 
Suddenly Debby felt far nearer to little-Bit 
than she did to Silly, who was her own 
"special” sister. Of course Cecilia couldn’t 
help it, she had never been told anything else 
than that Debby did not like it as well at Uncle 
Mort’s as she did at home. Debby herself had 
thought it true, but now she was going, now that 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


259 


her year was over so far as she herself was con- 
cerned, she knew that there were many things 
Ishe had loved, things and people she would 
miss terribly. Above all, she would miss dear, 
dear Uncle Mort ! 

So she wrote to him: 

My dear Uncle Mortimer: 

I hope you won’t mind very much not having me 
any more but taking Cecilia instead? I mind dread- 
fully for I love you a whole heap, but it seems the 
right thing to do now you don’t want Little-Bit. 
She hasn’t any place to go with her papa perhaps 
dead and buried no one knows where and not so much 
money now as with him. Mumsy always can take 
care of another one, she is so used to it. 

Silly is very good-natured but not quite as cheer- 
ful by nature as I am which is a good thing, but she 
is the beauty as you said yourself and her brain is 
not the regular Jannison kind as I fear mine is. If 
you study this report you will see for yourself. At 
school here everything is so interesting I can’t help it 
I guess. Probably I shall be a dunce at home as I 
used to be. 

Please don’t miss me, and be kind to Silly because 
she wants to be with you and only needs getting 
used to. Dear Uncle, I shall miss you so much. It 
is good you do not see me now because I am crying 
and that is not cheerful at all. Oh, this is not a bit 
like Debby you would say. 


260 DEBBY’S YEAR 

Thank you for being so awfully good to me, dear 
Uncle. 

Your loving niece, 

Debison Jannison. 
Debby 


CHAPTER XIX 


Debby and Little-Bit had taken the Ferry 
across and the surface car to the beginning of 
town in the way Debby knew Paignton always 
did. 

They had slipped out with their little grips 
in their hands when Mrs. Banning had been 
taking her after-dinner nap, and though it had 
been early when they started, barely two 
o^clock, it had been two hours or more before 
they reached home. 

The little house looked shabbier than ever as 
they walked up to it, and Debby had looked at 
it with stricken eyes. 

‘‘Little-Bit, if you arenT happy here I shall 
never forgive myself!^’ 

“Not happy, with your mother T’ Little-Bit ^s 
eyes had shown rapturously, and Debby had 
given a contented sigh. It had been such a 
wrench tearing herself away from Uncle Mort- 
imer ^s that she had scarcely been able to think 
of anything else. But now that they were at 
261 


262 


DEBBY^S YEAR 


their journey’s end, it had begun to be a kind 
of adventure. She was getting over the hard 
part and beginning to enjoy herself. Debby 
could always do this after a time. 

It did not take long to explain to Mumsy. 
At first Mrs. Jannison had looked rather per- 
plexed, but Debby had been so matter-of-fact 
about doing the right thing as she had seen it, 
that she accepted their explanation and let it 
go at that. Perhaps — she could not tell at this 
time — but it might be possible that they had 
really been guided to come home in this way. 

‘ ‘ Silly send any message ! ’ ’ she asked briskly. 

‘ ^ She sent you a hug, Mumsy, and to tell you 
not to worry. She wanted just a chance at be- 
ing luxurious, as I had had. ’ ’ 

‘‘Isn’t that like her?” said Mrs. Jannison 
contentedly. She had less fears for Cecilia 
than she had borne for Debby when she went 
away. Cecilia was less volcanic, less impres- 
sionable. Possibly she might suit Mortimer 
better in the long run. 

“Well, we are very glad to have you, Little- 
Bit, of course,” she said; “and as for Debby 
here, why it is wonderful to have her back. 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


263 


You two girls had better share the room you and 
Silly had, Debby, and I guess you’ll have to set 
it to rights yourselves, my dears, because I have 
my hands full. Your father brought home 
some papers for me to translate for him the 
other evening, Debby, and I am giving all my 
spare time to that.” 

^ ^ I — could I help, I wonder ? ’ ’ said Little-Bit, 
‘‘I am rather good at languages.” 

Let’s see !” said Debby ’s mother practically. 
Presently, she stole away and left Little-Bit ab- 
sorbed at the table, writing down the transla- 
tion as fast as she could go of some quite intri- 
cate French papers. 

‘^Well,” she said, don’t see that your Lit- 
tle-Bit need worry about her future, she could 
teach French and things like that when she’s 
older. Debby, she’s a little witch, isn’t she?” 

The rest of the family began to arrive, the 
girls welcoming Debby with open arms. Paign- 
stood aghast, thinking that Debby had thrown 
away a good chance. But he was soon sitting 
beside Little-Bit writing as she spoke the words, 
and when Bill came banging into the house with 
his usual bustle and clamour for food, the circle 


264 


DEBBY’S YEAR 


seemed complete. Daddy was so often absent 
that they seldom looked for him, and of course 
if Debby was not at home some one had to take 
her place. To hear them talk of Uncle Mort it 
might have seemed that he was an invalid re- 
quiring perpetual looking after. 

Gee whillikins! it was good to be back! 

Debby had done the dishes with Jane, and was 
leaning against the window idly looking out into 
the street, when her heart gave a great leap. 
Carefully threading its way in between the 
playing groups of children, she saw the smart 
little roadster that Uncle Mort drove himself. 
He was sitting at the wheel, and beside him, 
her face almost unrecognizable from crying, 
sat dear old Silly. 

Debby ran out into the street. 

Silly, you poor lamb I she cried, using one 
of Mrs. Banning ^s words without noticing it. 
She did not look at her uncle, except as her 
eyes crossed his for an instant as he stared at 
her. It was as if he saw her for the first time 
again, Debby thought. 

She had been doing the dishes, of course, and 
she wore a big brown gingham apron, a thing 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


265 


she had always hated. But she had forgotten 
to take it otf, and she must have seemed very 
different from the Debby he was used to seeing. 
With the half of her mind that was not occupied 
in soothing Cecilia, fast approaching hysteria as 
she saw her house of cards tumbling about her 
ears, Debby had time to think of this. 

Uncle Mortimer followed her into the house, 
and faced her there in the tiny hallway. 

‘ ‘Debby! he said. 

His voice was so sad that she scarcely knew it. 
The eyes that looked into hers were troubled 
to the depths. Anger, disdain, any of these 
things Debby could have withstood, but this cut 
her heart. With a little cry she held out her 
arms to him. 

“Uncle Mort, darling; you know I hated to 
goV^ 

“But why did you, Debby, why did you do it! 
Childie, do you care more for Little-Bit than 
you do for me!^’ 

She dropped her voice as she answered him. 

“Not more, Uncle Mort, but it is different. 
Bhe hasnT any one, she needs me 

“I need you!^^ 


266 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


‘‘But you have Cecilia, Uncle Mort/’ 

Debby was crying now, openly and frankly. 
Silly had gone on into the living room to 
Mumsy, and Uncle Mort was alone with Debby 
in the hall. 

“ Cecilia ^s worth about the value of one of 

I 

your fingers, to me ! ’ ’ 

Debby could not help it, her heart leapt ! Oh, 
so Uncle Mort really loved her, he wanted her, 
Debby, not just some little girl who w^ould be 
like a daughter to him. She stopped crying 
and looked up at him, and for a minute the 
hazel eyes and the blue met in a long glance. 
Debby felt as if she were talking to Uncle Mort- 
imer, although they did not say a word. 
Outside the sounds of the warm little street car 
came to them in shrill noises that began and 
stopped and yet never seemed to cease entirely. 

“This isn’t the place for you, Debby!” He 
looked about him contemptuously. 

“It has been good enough for Mumsy!” 

“It isn’t going to be good enough any longer. 
I am going to buy her a new house tomorrow. 
We’ll go together, you shall choose it, Debby 
dear. Call it a bribe, call it what you will, but 


DEBBY^S YEAE 


267 


I was going to do it anyhow, before I knew any- 
thing about — about this nonsense. Cliild, child ! 
I could shake you and hug you at the same time. 
Come back to me, Debby, bring your Little-Bit 
too. I’ll take you on any terms, almost, only I 
want my little daughter.” 

‘^But — poor Silly?” 

Silly’s just a dear goose ! If I let her buy a 
trunkful of dresses and all the things to go with 
them, she’ll be happy for a year, let ixlone six 
months. You know that’s true, Debby, it 
wasn’t really me Cecilia was thinking about; 
how should she, poor child? She cried for her 
mother the moment things began to go wrong! 
Why, she couldn’t live without her for a week ! ” 

‘‘Perhaps you’re right,” said Debby. A 
dimple shewed in her cheek, she looked up at 
Uncle Mort mischievously. “You aren’t go- 
ing to regret letting me keep Little-Bit when 
tomorrow comes, are you? I — I have to look 
after her, you know; she ’d do the same for me. ’ ’ 

“She can boss us both”; said Mortimer 
Poole, “you always have to look out for that 
little kind!” 

Debby ’s laugh rang out with the old merry 


268 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


ring. Helen Jannison came quickly into the 
hall and looked at her brother soberly. 

‘ ‘ If you ’d married years ago and had a fam- 
ily of your own, Mortimer Poole, you wouldn’t 
have had to steal mine ! ’ ’ she said. She smiled 
her weary, happy little smile. ‘‘Well, as long 
as you don’t steal all their hearts.!” she said 
contentedly ; ‘ ‘ when do Debby and Little-Bit go 
back?” 

“How do you know Little-Bit’s coming?” 

“Debby wouldn’t leave without her, of 
course. ’ ’ 

“No; because she’s some of her mother’s 
cussedness in her, I guess, she sticks to her own, 
Helen, just as you always did, God bless you. 
Well, if you really want an answer to your 
question, I say that there’s no time like the 
present! The girls can come back together in 
the car. Two little people ought to be able to 
crowd together on one seat, don’t you think so? 
Debby has very kindly consented, Helen my 
dear, to come back to her cross old uncle and 
finish out her year ! ’ ’ 

“If the last six months are as good as the 
first,” said Debby saucily, “you may have a 


DEBBY’S YEAE 


269 


life job on your hands, Uncle Mort! At least 
you might, she corrected herself, ‘4f it wasn’t 
for Mumsy!” 
















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